


Truce

by weirdrobot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Enemies to Friends, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Obi-Wan brand Flirting™, Subtext, Unresolved Tension, enemies to friends to not quite lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdrobot/pseuds/weirdrobot
Summary: This isn't quite a redemption story. Not quite a love story either. It's just a begrudging alliance, nothing more. Between two sworn enemies at the end of the war who soon realise things are more complicated than they thought.Canon divergent ROTS AU, my favourite "teaming up with the enemy" trope. Not explicitly romantic but I encourage you to read between the lines.





	1. Old Allies, New Enemies

A Jedi peers out from behind a rock, pausing to clutch the fresh ache in one of his legs. He looks around with weary eyes, his mind running faster than his tired body can take. To his left, a sheer drop to either a deep pool or to his oblivion; to his right, a sprawling expanse of dimly lit tunnels and caves. He's alone here, but terrified of the pursuing chance of that changing. He throws back his hood to get a better look at his surroundings, running a hand through damp hair as he surveys the platforms and villages across the gap. He lets out a deep breath as he picks a path, prays to the Force that immediate death isn't right around the corner, and continues on.

Because at this point it's the only option left.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has known the Force long enough to know it isn't much help in predicting things. Predicting things like, well, an entire legion of clone troopers turning on him in a heartbeat.

But he _does_ know it well enough to know that there's hope.

He doesn't know how far down he is in the planet's winding underground levels, nor does he know exactly how he's going to escape the hundreds of soldiers trying to track him down. He doesn't even know where he intends to go; his destination for the last hour or so hasn't been much more in depth than "anywhere but here", but with death behind him it's enough to keep him going forward.

It happened quickly. A flash of light in the corner of his eye, the sound of blaster fire in his ear and the shriek of his varactyl companion. Then a long plummet into darkness. He didn't have time to understand it, to find reasons why, why the men he'd fought alongside for years would betray him. No, not just his men. His friends.

He still can't place why. He's trying not to think about it, really. Right now, surviving is more important. But he can't scratch the nagging feeling that things have gone very, very wrong.

He's trying to work his way up, hoping to find any form of civilisation where he can hide, or ideally get a ride off this hellish planet. But he's so far down that few sentients even seem to live here. Every path leads to empty mines and dead end tunnels, seemingly abandoned in early stages of construction. Some of them are barely even lit properly. At least that might be a place to hide, if things get really rough. There's already been some narrow escapes from clone troopers, but none have noticed him yet. If all goes well, he can escape without them even knowing he survived the fall. But then again, knowing his luck in this life, the chances are slim.

There's another mystery at hand here, though, besides his own betrayal. He was supposed to come here to find the separatists, hoping to get an edge in the war by capturing General Grievous. But he barely had a chance to find him before all hell broke loose. The journey to the planet was held up because of _pirates_ , of all the absurd things - pirates who did not respect the urgency Kenobi required by any stretch of the imagination. It's been a day for horrendous luck all round, as it turns out.

He can't even communicate with the Jedi at this point; the fall from his mount scattered his tracking beacon and communicator to who knows where. He rests a hand over his lightsaber, thankfully still secured to his waist. It's an effort to calm himself, but also comes from the fear that at any moment a trooper might walk around the corner and open fire. It's hard to concentrate in the Force at times like this.

He creeps ahead, up a slope that seems to lead to a wider area, brightly lit compared to the miserable darkness of the vacant caves. He keeps having to remind himself there's more out there to avoid than just the clone troopers. Somewhere lurks General Grievous and his army of battle droids, not to mention his MagnaGuards. Just a wonderful situation, really.

He hears echoes from around a corridor, eyes darting wildly around the open cavern as he desperately searches for somewhere to hide. His only options are back the way he came, and forward through the tunnel where the muffled voices echo. But then he stops, and slowly peers up. A metal platform hangs above him, holding fluorescent lights and pieces of wiring and machinery up on the ledge. In a swift leap, he lands on the top, crouching to soften the landing and hide himself, but it's still enough to make an audible clang against the metal. Wincing, he hears the shuffle of footsteps through the tunnel, and takes a deep breath in case even his own breathing would give him away.

A small group of Utai come waddling through on short legs, looking startled and confused. The lights on their helmets flash across the expanse of the cave as they throw their heads around left and right looking for the source of the noise. Thankfully none of them seem to be bright enough to look up. He observes them for a few moments more, watching one gesture to a datapad and ramble in a language he can't even begin to comprehend, while the other two give him their replies. They quickly hurry down the other tunnel, inspecting parts of the wall until they disappear from view.

He catches his breath, relieved that down here things seem quiet enough that the locals are the only ones he has to worry about. No signs of panic from a separatist invasion or clones on a manhunt, so that's a pleasant reassurance. For the Utai it's apparently just business as usual. But he doesn't trust them enough to expose himself, and certainly doesn't expect they'll be of much help to him this far down. So he presses on.

He decides a sensible plan of action would to be find some place to observe, to try and pick out a safe landing platform to steal a ship or smuggle himself off the planet. Keeping to the upper levels of the interior caves along the metal platforms, he slowly makes his way further up for another agonising length of time.

His eyes tire of the same brown rock for what feels like miles. He judges his decisions carefully, stopping to peek round every corner just in case. Peeking round one particular corner, his eyes widen and he feels his heart plummet. But it's silent. So he takes another look, frozen in stunned surprise.

Battle droids. Rows and rows of every kind of mechanical nightmare he can image, as far as the eye can see. But not a single one moves. There's B1s slumped to one side where they stand, blasters at their feet; B2s tipping over, MagnaGuards with staffs disabled, still clutched in lifeless hands. A completely silent room, without the buzz or hum of a single motor or servo. Each one, effectively, dead.

He heard what happened on the other side of the Battle of Naboo, outside in the fields where the Gungans claimed victory as the droids stood lifeless. But this is different, these droids don't run from a command ship anymore. (If they did it would certainly have made his life a lot easier these past few years). This was done for a purpose.

He wanders what seems to be their abandoned base; deserted of sentients and regrettably without any waiting ships or vehicles. He doesn't suppose he's going to find answers as to why this entire portion of the army is deactivated, or where their general went, but he supposes its worth a try. It's hardly the first time he's done detective work.

As he walks between the frozen corpses of droids, he approaches a number of computer consoles and terminals below large display monitors. Taking a closer look and trying some of the inputs, he finds them still perfectly functional. A huge list of recent data lies in front of him; as if whoever was here last didn't even take the precaution of encrypting or securing the devices. But why shut down the droids and not the computers?

Staying in one place isn't a smart move, so he scours what information he can find as quickly as possible. He pulls up a database tied in to the rest of the planet's computer systems, detailing recent arrivals and departures of ships. The most recent is a departure to the Mustafar system.

It has the markings of one of Grievous' quick escapes, but this isn't like the other times. Grievous wouldn't shut down his droids. He certainly wouldn't leave terminals running unmanned like this.

There's no data on the droids; neither this nor the other terminals seem to host the droid systems, suggesting that their deactivation was done remotely. Or even internally, if such a thing was programmed into them. He's never exactly been one for technology. Maybe Anakin would know.

Looking through the rest of the systems, taking nervous glances up at the droids and the tunnels opposite every now and again, he finds a detailed enough map of the primary sinkholes of the planet. The one he's in right now is the main one, where most of the planet's bureaucracy lives and operates, and where most of its underground population can be found. The branching tunnels lead to a handful of other, smaller ones, home to mainly Utai and the location of a number of the planet's mines. Here he's about halfway to the surface, with civilisation close enough that he's surprised the clone troopers haven't made their way down here yet.

But then his eyes wander to the screen farthest to his left, at the end of the row. It flickers slightly, and as he looks closer he sees a hole straight through it. And a few blackened marks in the side of the base's metal walls. Taking time to properly examine his surroundings where his panic would previously not allow, he follows a trail of blaster marks along the walls and floor, some of which seem to have punctured a few of the dead droids. They lead him to an entrance to a small, dark room, with a large circular centrepiece that appears to be a large holographic device. There's a pair of dead clones on the floor. Slashed right through with a lightsaber.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he carefully pushes one of the buttons on the console, jumping as blue light suddenly fills the room. A familiar figure springs to life, hunched and crooked and dark.

"This is General Grievous," comes the voice, garbled even more so than usual through the hologram. "Requesting contact from Lord Sidious."

He hisses the words, and Obi-Wan can just make out his left hand, clenched into a fist. And then suddenly it comes crashing down on the console.

"Answer me!" he roars. "What happened to my battle droids?"

He throws his cape back and starts to pace back and forth. The audio is poor, but it can't mask his choked breaths. He pictures nostrils flaring under the mask.

It's then there comes a loud noise, and a flash of light. The general growls and turns around in an instant, pulling out a pair of lightsabers from his cape. He leaps up and leaves Obi-Wan relying on his ears. Blaster fire, words he can't make out, but he knows the voices all too well. And he knows their dying screams more than he would like. They're the clones at his feet. The rest of the hologram is useless, just the continued sounds of battle, spinning lightsabers, and the roaring of an engine (one of the general's typical escapes, he supposes).

It's all too familiar; a morbid reminder of just how long he's been a part of this war, just how mundane death and violence have become.

He prefers not to dwell on it.

But he turns off the hologram too late. A probe droid turns the corner, summoned by the noise, and he can't react fast enough to avoid its gaze. He grimaces as it sets off an alarm, taking it out with a slash of his saber although he knows it's too late.

As he hears footsteps and the braying of varactyls, he sets off running. But as he navigates the sprawling tunnels with nothing to guide him but a series of guesses and luck, he finds that isn't enough. As the rumbling footsteps draw closer still, the shouts of clones and his impending doom draw nearer. There's light at the end of the tunnel, pure blinding light. But it isn't the light of a village, of the shelter of civilisation where he can hide among structures of bone and a bustling population.

It's the abyss.

He feet slow as he realises there's nowhere to go. Inside the sinkhole he sees hundreds of settlements; the cities stretched out along the edges, the spaceports at the top. He watches the coming and going of ships, so far from him and so impossible now. Even from here he can see the white armour of the clone troopers, dotted around the busiest areas.

All he wants is to go up, to go _anywhere_ but here, in the empty depths of the planet where he's only prolonging the inevitable with no means of escape.

They're behind him now.

Well, there goes a few hours of walking.

Before they even get a shot at him, he leaps off the ledge. By the time they catch up to peer over the edge, he's already rolling into a landing on the level below.

He pauses, crouching on the rough ground to catch his breath. But as his panting subsides he realises he isn't the only one drawing breaths. Very heavy breaths.

He freezes in place, afraid to turn around and have his suspicions confirmed.

And then there's a cough.


	2. Enemies Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the wait wasn't too long! This month's been really busy and I've been dealing with some really bad hand pain. This is my first time posting fic so I have no idea how regularly I should be posting chapters but I want to space them out a bit to give me time to have enough written in advance so if worse comes to worst I won't be leaving you with nothing for months at a time. Anyways, in the immortal words: this is where the fun begins.

Obi-Wan turns his head slowly, reluctantly, and exhaustedly, really wishing this day could have turned out just a fraction less cruel.

As if mirroring his own actions, the cyborg's head snaps round in turn. Fleshy eyes narrow and glint in the light behind his prey.

Neither moves, uncertain who is to act first. For agonising seconds that just won't pass quick enough, it's silent and lifeless in the cave.

Then the cyborg leaps up, his cape swirling him as one black blur. And then that black is drowned in blue and green light; the distant cries of the planet's wildlife and the racing of ships muted under the buzzing of sabers.

He comes swinging towards the Jedi, narrowly ducking under and then jumping up to meet the general's blade with one of his own. There should be panic running through his mind as he finds himself breathlessly blocking attacks from all sides. Constantly finding himself in the middle of two lightsabers desperate to find him with their wide chopping motions, he's aware that every moment could be his last. But there's more than fear in his mind. Every second spent avoiding certain death is a second spent figuring out a plan.

He's being pushed backwards with every one of the general's violent swings, closer and closer towards the edge of the platform and the terrifying drop below. As he takes a nervous glance down he's almost caught off guard, only narrowly finding the strength to block another brutal swing.

There's clones down there. On one of the lower levels. And they're looking directly at them, watching the blue and green lightshow that's going to lead them directly to their prey.

And then he thinks.

_They're after both of us._

He pushes hard against the lightsabers held against his own, summoning all his strength from the Force to keep his balance, to just stay alive long enough to give this a shot.

"If you want to live, put down your weapons," he says, his voice about as calm as he can manage given the circumstances, but even he can't hide his own panicked breaths.

Grievous just lets out a raspy laugh. They're such a short distance apart it goes right through him, even louder and more vile than the crackling of their sabers.

"Still trying to reason? Your luck's run out, Kenobi."

His frustration fuels him enough to push his sabers off him and leap away from the ledge.

"Take a look down there," he pants. "There's clones everywhere, you can't escape here."

The general growls and lunges at him again, seemingly only angered more by his attempts at a warning.

"I don't need your threats," he spits, glaring at him while sabers meet once again.

"What exactly," Kenobi begins, dashing out of the way, "do you plan on doing? Just sit and wait for the clones to find you without an army? Even you can't expect to defeat a whole battalion!"

Another bitter slash, barely even making contact with him, as if he's just swinging in fury now rather than with any sense of accuracy.

"I don't need an army!"

Obi-Wan isn't sure he's ever heard him this furious in all the times they've fought.

"Don't you see I'm trying to help you?" he cries, knowing the longer this goes on, the closer death comes.

His eyes narrow into dark slits, flickering with hatred and bitterness and all of his anger.

"Why would I _ever_ want your help?"

And then a swing so sharp and so violent from his right arm that there's barely time to block properly, and for a moment there's a searing pain in the Jedi's hand and the lightsaber flies across the ground.

He stands below the general, fuming with rage and hatred. It's all he can hear, in his seething breaths, the fierce crackling of his lightsabers that are now surely mere seconds away from cutting right through him.

But he looks into his gleaming yellow eyes with nothing but sheer ludicrous hope.

"Because right now, we're on the same side."

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and maybe just hoping if he does, he won't have to watch his own death coming.

One swift strike is all it would take.

But nothing happens.

"The clone troopers, they've turned on me. I'm asking for your help in return for mine."

The look in the general's eyes changes. They stare at each other, motionless. There's no reason this should work, no possible reason why the merciless Jedi killer would want to spare him of all people, the one he'd probably chase to the ends of the galaxy just to skewer on a lightsaber.

Blue and green blades retract into their hilts. There's safety in silence again. And a wordless understanding between them, an unthinkable admission of peace.

And then Grievous finally breaks eye contact, turning away to start pacing the room. Almost as if he's trying to avoid looking at the Jedi any further.

"They left me to die here," he barks. "They shut down my army and left me here to rot. For you and your _Republic scum_ to kill me."

He can't help but lean on the words like that.

His feet make metallic clangs each time he treads the stone floor, his cape flowing behind him like a following shadow. Uneasy in his company, Obi-Wan stands rigid, clasping his singed hand caught by the very edge of a lightsaber and doing his best to ignore the pain.

"You're not the only one who's been betrayed," he says, softly.

He's still trying not to think about it. About what it means.

The general glares, eyeing him up and down. He's still suspicious.

"You came here to kill me."

"Yes. I did," he says, sighing. "But as you can see, that situation has changed. And now I'm giving you a chance to live. _I just need your help_."

He's not above pleading, if it'll get through to him. Thinking about it, he'd be hard pressed to find someone who'd be more difficult to be stranded on a planet with than him. Dooku, Bane, Ohnaka; he'd take any of them any day over Grievous.

He stops his pacing, pointing a long metal finger at him.

"You know I'd rather die than sympathise with you."

"And yet," he begins, stepping forward to challenge him. "You chose not to kill me."

Grievous is silent a moment, and then he growls at him, a low raspy sound more like a choke than anything now. He comes closer, peering down at him through the mask. There's a look of death in his eyes again.

But Obi-Wan knows not to be intimidated by him, no matter how hard he tries. He's faced him too many times, bested him too many times; he knows how he operates and knows he values one thing above all else. Well, himself, naturally. As fearsome as he is, there's a reason he's acquired a reputation as a coward. He admits it's tactically sound, and truthfully quite a wise way to protect what no doubt must have been a _huge_ investment on behalf of the separatist council. He's not quite as disposable as the battle droids, to put it lightly. The only reason he hasn't killed him yet is that he's simply too good at running away. And that instinct might be helpful. And a very good way to keep him on his side. Here he has no army, no ship he can quietly sneak away to - little chance for him to go and pull one of his infamous retreats.

Not without Kenobi's help, that is.

"What's wrong, general?" he smirks, knowing from the general's silence that he's won this round. "Too proud to admit this is a fight you can't win on your own?"

The general growls, fists clenched as the Jedi simply smiles at him with sickening defiance.

"Fine," he spits at last. "I will cooperate with you, Kenobi. But you will get no such admission from me."

Obi-Wan is about to speak but Grievous cuts him off sharply, pointing a stern finger at him.

"And _don't_ try anything, if you want to get off this planet," and he pauses, "alive."

Obi-Wan shrugs, knowing it only infuriates the cyborg more, but making sure he knows damn well that he isn't scared of him.

"So it's settled then," he says, raising a hand to his face to touch his beard and hide the astute smirk that's been slowly spreading.

He reaches a hand out toward the general. The hand that still stings from the bite of a lightsaber.

"Truce?"

Grievous stares at it, in half a mind to spurn his worthless gesture, to rebuff whatever spurious alliance he's about to try and hold him to. But he knows he doesn't have much choice. He doesn't have any choice.

There's no point rationalising it now.

He grabs it, twisting cool metal fingers (six of them) over warm flesh. He shakes it with a motion far harder than would be polite, making cold eye contact, and quickly retracts his hand toward his body.

A clumsy gesture, not quite sincere. But a gesture all the same.

Enough to keep the two of them alive.

"Truce."

 

Grievous wastes no time in backing away and keeping the Jedi a safe distance from him. He keeps a firm stare as Obi-Wan retrieves the lightsaber that had flown from his hand, watching closely as he tucks it onto his belt. Only then does he begin pacing up and down, making the tired Jedi frown at the incessant tapping on the stone floor.

"I hope you're coming up with our escape plan," Kenobi says, deciding to use what might be his only free time today to rest against a wall.

Grievous lets out a sound of contempt and continues the slow pacing, one arm behind his back and the other hanging loosely at his side.

"You know, we can't stay here too long," Obi-Wan urges. "The troopers on the lower levels saw us, they'll have notified the others by now."

"I know!" he growls.

"Well, any suggestions? You've had to have seen something here other than the same endless caves and tunnels I've been through."

Grievous stops walking and furrows his brow. He's either annoyed, or he's thinking. Realistically with Kenobi around, it's both.

"There's the wheel bike," he says. "That's how I got here from the base."

Obi-Wan's face picks up, he opens his mouth to speak.

"Until it broke down."

His face drops back down into a frown.

"Great. And what am I supposed to do, fix it for you? I'm not a droid, you know. In fact, if either of us-"

"Don't say another word," he snaps, with a glare that gives Obi-Wan the feeling he's on the verge of taking back their agreement.

Obi-Wan sighs and stands up straight again (with some reluctance) and crosses his arms.

"Fine. If it gets us out of here, I'll see what I can do."

He waves a hand in front of him.

"Lead on."

Grievous rolls his eyes at his theatrics and begins the short trek back to the site of the crash. As he explains to Kenobi while they walk, the damage was largely the result of the numbers of clones pursuing him from the separatist base. He was present when the droids shut down, with apparently no warning whatsoever - he makes sure to voice his displeasure with this at least three times during the journey - and didn't have long before the clones arrived. Truthfully, he _could_ have taken them down, but his excuse is that he was too preoccupied with finding a ship after they successfully blocked all his chances at getting back to his own. That was when he decided to try his luck at a nearby shuttle bay in one of the other sinkholes.

"So you know this planet well?" Kenobi asks, his voice hushed as they sneak around as best as a giant cyborg and a wanted Jedi can.

"I have had dealings here in the past," he replies.

Neither could forget their last meeting here and the _fun_ that pursued. And by fun of course they both mean Obi-Wan getting captured and nearly tortured and then proceeding to blow up an entire ship with a giant kyber crystal with Anakin's help. Just the usual.

"But it has been a while since I've been this far down," he continues. "They've already blocked off some of the tunnels for new developments, mines, new cities, that sort of thing."

"Based on the map I saw there should be settlements further out we can reach. But if they've blocked them off the only way to get there is by passing through some of the higher levels."

"The ones swarming with your troops," Grievous adds.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply.

"Mm-hmm," he sighs. "That'll be them."

Grievous shakes his head at the relative calmness of the man. He'd rather be stuck with a snarker than a whiner, but by the stars, there's only so much flippant wit a man can handle in one lifetime.

"So tell me, Kenobi. Why _are_ your clones trying to kill you?" he asks, perhaps trying to see if he can push the Jedi to as much annoyance.

He watches as his face twitches at that, studying the way he has to take a breath and keep up his composure.

"That's… well, that's what I want to know," he says, gravely. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with you and your associates?"

Grievous scoffs and ducks his head to fit through a tight cave.

"If I had that kind of power I'd have used it a lot sooner. This is what happens when you let Jedi create an army."

"And what about your army?" Obi-Wan asks, as equally amused. "Brainless droids that practically walk into lightsabers? Surely your separatist friends can equip you with better soldiers."

"Pah!" he cries, his growling voice echoing through the cave. Obi-Wan hopes there aren't any clones around to hear that. "I hate them as much as your side does. I should be commanding real troops."

He tenses up his hands, and Kenobi watches him carefully. Getting used to his mannerisms, and the feeling of just being in his company without his life being in immediate danger. Having a casual conversation with the leader of the separatist army was not something that had ever occurred to him was possible before today.

"He expects victories but only gives me worthless machines."

"He… You mean Sidious?"

The name alone prompts an animalistic growl.

"You serve him, don't you?" he continues, seeing just how much he can get out of him while he seems willing to talk.

He suddenly turns his head to look him dead in the eyes. It seems he's hit a nerve.

"I serve no one," he barks. "Sidious left me defenceless to you and your army. It's clear I have fulfilled my purpose to him."

Obi-Wan's mouth hangs open for a second.

"You mean…"

"We have no further need of each other."

That's new. He hadn't expected Grievous to take his apparent betrayal this hard.

From what the Jedi had learned of Sidious he had taken on a number of apprentices, or apprentices of apprentices, and assorted other lackeys like Grievous to do his bidding. Maul, Dooku, Ventress, Opress, and now Grievous. Perhaps it isn't all that unlikely for him to have just abandoned Grievous here. Depending on how disposable he considers him.

He knows it's foolish to imagine his lack of contact is a sign of something good. He'd like to cling to a sliver of a chance that Darth Sidious had been defeated somehow and the clones rebelling was just some unrelated incident.

But he knows by now that things never do work out the way he wants them to.

For now, he's going to see the best in his current situation. He's alive, with Grievous on his side. A Grievous who's given up hope in his master. Maybe miracles do occur.

He looks at Grievous and hides a sly smile as a twinkle of an idea flashes in his mind. Grievous nearly catches him staring but is interrupted by a loud cough that only makes that damn smirk spread further across his face.

"I'm surprised they haven't heard you from the top level. It's a shame Dooku never built you for stealth."

He turns with a glare that says he's about to tear him to shreds but is interrupted by another cough. Obi-Wan lets out a gentle laugh and Grievous swears to himself he won't hesitate next time his life winds up in his four hands.


	3. Near-Death Experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! And it's a long one! Something incredibly silly happens in this one and I hope you'll forgive me.

It isn't long before they arrive at the site of the wrecked wheel bike, slumped against the side of a cave wall in a heap, one of its legs lying on the ground a few feet behind it. There are wires poking out from some small holes in the metal plating, and the whole thing's covered in scuffs and scorch marks. Obi-Wan bends over to get a look at the state of the controls. Most of the damage is superficial, a few scratches on the control screen and the loss of part of the handlebars. But he sighs and Grievous looks over coldly as he notices a problem.

"A blaster bolt's gone right through the casing here," he says, pointing to part of the metal around the control panel.

Grievous leans in, pretending to be interested because frankly, he's spent enough time around machinery for it to be of no interest to him anymore.

Obi-Wan can sense his inability to even try and be of use here and continues examining the damage. There's some fried bits of wire and circuitry sticking out that, upon trying to turn it on, seem to have just rendered the entire thing inoperable.

It's not exactly often that the thought crosses his mind, but this would be so much _easier_ if Anakin were here.

"Well?" Grievous asks, impatient as ever.

Obi-Wan stands up straight and reaches for a small repair kit tucked away in a pouch on his belt. He's not exactly one for technology, but it never hurts to be prepared.

"It's nothing too bad - I hope. As long as I can reconnect these wires and get the thing to turn on again."

He hesitates a moment and then asks, "Um, I don't suppose you could set it up straight against that wall for me?"

Grievous is about to grumble, but does it anyway because by the stars does he want nothing more than to get out of here.

"Thanks," Obi-Wan says, finding a comfortable enough place to lean over and fix it now that it's upright.  "I suppose I shouldn't ask why they can train you to use a lightsaber but not fix your own machinery."

He growls, impatience and anger weighing on him enough to start pacing up and down the cave again.

"This is why I have droids," he spits. "I have fleets to command, I have no time for such things."

"Too busy wiping out entire civilisations, I suppose," Kenobi remarks, raising an eyebrow without looking up from the wires he's trying to solder together.

Grievous just grunts, and Obi-Wan gets the feeling he's taking that last comment as a compliment. Arrogant or not, he's still stuck with him. Perhaps it's a bit too much to hope that he'll have rubbed off on him by the end of this.

It takes him a few more minutes to get the wires sorted, sighing and cursing under his breath every so often as the small wires slip from his hands and when he pokes himself with the hot soldering tool. Grievous comments upon the broken leg and they both decide they'll manage just fine without it. There _is_ a limit to the Jedi's usefulness here, after all.

Grievous' eyes snap to the cave entrance when he detects movement nearby, freezing on alert while Kenobi carries on without noticing. A stray Utai hobbles round the corner and Grievous' eyes flicker with danger. The poor thing practically jumps and slowly stumbles back before running off. It isn't the first of the natives he's encountered today, and certainly not the first to skitter away like a hunted animal.

"What was that?" Kenobi asks, raising his head sensing Grievous' distraction.

He turns back to him and the bike.

"Nothing. We should leave here soon."

"I'm nearly done. But I need your help again," he says, almost afraid to ask for it.

Grievous comes closer and looks at him expectantly. He scoots over to let him see what he's doing, and lifts a large piece of metal plating to position it correctly.

"Hold this while I reattach it."

He holds it steady and says nothing, just watching closely as Obi-Wan manoeuvres awkwardly around his large hands to solder the metal back on and cover up the damage. It's unnerving the way Grievous looms above him, even when he's crouched he still towers over him. He glances up nervously and catches his eye for a second, to find he's staring at _him_ rather than his work. It's an attempt at intimidation, he knows that's all it ever is with Grievous. But for that brief moment he senses something more.

It's uncomfortable being this close. His eyes, they mean danger, but suddenly he realises they mean more than that. It's not just danger, it's mystery; the one animated feature on that cold metal face, the inability to ever truly perceive what he's thinking.

But here he is helping him repair a bike. Less than an hour after having shook his hand and agreed to let him live.

He's a mystery in more ways than one.

He's nearly distracted from what he's doing, but without too much difficulty he's secured the plating in place. He thanks Grievous for his help, not quite marvelling at his cooperation, but still pleasantly surprised.

"With those extra hands of yours you'd make a great mechanic, you know," he says, trying to make up for his nerves with humour. "Maybe that's something to think about after the war."

Grievous is too busy testing the controls and making sure there's no further damage to bother with him. He gets the engine ready and takes his seat when they both realise one problem still remains.

Somehow _both_ of them are supposed to ride this vehicle.

"You're not leaving me behind after all that," he frowns, crossing his arms. "Can't we just get rid of this cannon?"

He gestures to the laser cannon taking up the space where a second seat once would have been. Grievous shakes his head.

"It'll take too long. Besides, it might come in useful."

"Fine," Kenobi says, doubting that very much.

So the attempts to fit two people on a one-man vehicle begin. 

First Grievous offers Kenobi a rather tight seat behind him, shuffling forward to give the Jedi all of five inches of room to squeeze on behind him. This ends in anticipated disaster as Obi-Wan is completely crushed, not to mention lost in the black and red sea of Grievous' cape. Which, just as a side note, smells nothing short of terrible thanks to all the blood, dirt and scorch marks. Also, Grievous takes a considerable amount of offence to Obi-Wan having to latch his arms around him to stop him from falling off. For the Jedi's own safety they both decide to abandon this idea. 

Attempt two entails Obi-Wan then trying to squeeze on _in front_ of Grievous, trying his best to fit between the cyborg's legs. This is as deathly embarrassing as it is completely ineffective, rendering Grievous with no option but to dangle one leg off the vehicle, and any other strategies forcing Kenobi onto his lap, which he hates even more than the previous idea. He nearly snaps his wrist for placing a hand on his leg attempting to escape this predicament, and both decide to never speak of this series of events ever again. 

Further strategies involve Obi-Wan clinging to the back of the seat, but this is destined to end with him going flying off the second the vehicle starts going at a decent speed. He tries to sit in the middle, but then his legs end up in the precarious situation of being a bit too close to the rotating wheel that's covered in metal spikes, not to mention the similar placement of his head.

Finally, Obi-Wan finds a place he can position himself on top of the cannon where he won't be thrown off, won't have a limb severed by the wheel, and won't have to be anywhere in the immediate vicinity of Grievous.

As satisfied as he can possibly be with the situation, he gives the okay, and Grievous readies the vehicle.

He lays a hand on the control panel, his six fingers pressing on the levers specially made for him to control the bike, and they're off.

The sudden speed takes Obi-Wan by surprise and he does his best to cling on tight and tries not to think of all the horrible ways he could be killed if something were to go wrong. It's a different sort of experience from being in a starfighter; it's fast but not quite _that_ fast, although the awful whirring of the engine is a bit much to handle in comparison to the relative quietness inside a cockpit. He will say one thing though, on the subject of which he would never experience another time in his life given the chance, he'd still probably pick Anakin's flying over Grievous' driving. 

He feels his body tilt with every corner they turn, the sound of the roaring engine blocking out even the sound of the general's heavy synthesized breaths. As the bike picks up the pace pieces of dirt and dust start hitting his eyes, the smell of the engine as it grows warmer and warmer making his nose wrinkle. Soon the scenery around him blurs into one brown haze of rocky walls and dust, with the occasional interlude when he catches a hazy glimpse out of a wide opening onto the rest of the sinkhole.

"Do you know where you're going?" he yells, trying his best to make himself heard above the roar of the motor. 

"Of course," Grievous barks in reply, his eyes fixated firmly on the road in front of him. 

Obi-Wan supposes that's probably a good thing and decides not to question him further. It's not like he has a much better idea of the layout of these caves.

The ground is surprising flat down at this level, thankfully meaning the broken leg isn't going to set them back. Empty areas like these seem like they've been cleared recently for new cities, if the blocked off passages and the stray Utai he saw surveying the place earlier are anything to go by. He's been to some of the lower levels briefly in the past, but the most time he's ever spent on Utapau has been in Pau City. That was where he arrived earlier. Before his troops turned on him.

Troops.

He can sense them.

"Wait!" he cries, reaching out an arm to Grievous and turning his head to him in urgency. "There's clone troopers up ahead, we have to turn back."

Grievous swats his hand away and ignores his warning.

Sure enough, as the bike barrels into a large opening, there's a decent sized group of clone troopers lying in wait. Two on foot apparently came to peer round the corner at the calamity, and after a particularly awful noise Obi-Wan realises they're trampled by the colossal spinning wheel.

The rest open fire quickly, he can just about make out the sound of muffled voices shouting and signalling more to come.

Obi-Wan curses under his breath. Knowing now it all depends on how well Grievous can outrun them. But then again, it's Grievous.  He's practically perfected running away to an art form.

His first move is to push the vehicle to its limits, making Obi-Wan cling on for dear life as he speeds up suddenly and makes a push for the _wall._ The Jedi's cry is barely heard above the rabble as he's forced to lean forward and grab the cannon as tightly as possible in hopes he isn't about to go flying off. He thanks the stars Grievous doesn't try to loop round the top of the tunnel.

Panting as the bike returns to solid ground, Obi-Wan turns his head to see the clones attempting to follow on foot, sending bright blue plasma bolts down the tunnel alongside them. They're quickly left in the dust, but both of them know that's little relief when reinforcements are on their way. 

The turns become harder as the tunnels grow narrower while Grievous steers them precariously through the sinkhole. Still far from any of the rich cities seen from the surface and devoid of any particular signs of life it's safe for a while. But as they traverse higher up steeper cliffs and hills there's finally signs of life. It's impossible to make out anything beyond blurs, but there's lights and noise and both of these can only mean trouble.

Sure enough, it comes, as they drive right into a wide open area where another modest group of clones are lying in wait. Shouts, blaster fire, they all come, but they're still not able to compete with the speed of the vehicle and Grievous' admittedly skilful driving.

With more in pursuit and a probe droid following close behind, Obi-Wan squints to make out a signpost in the distance. The text is illegible but he sees an arrow and that's all he needs.

"Go left!" he cries, leaning over to Grievous to be quite sure he can hear.

He brushes him off and keeps driving, but Obi-Wan isn't prepared to let him waste more of their time in these caves.

"That's where we find civilisation - our ticket out of here!"

Grievous snarls over the sound of the engine.

"Are you trying to get us killed? They'll attack us on sight."

"What do you expect to find here? Do you _want_ to stay stuck in these caves forever?"

Grievous sustains a growl, turning at the Jedi with a look that could kill.

"If you're going to question me, Kenobi, I'll gladly let you walk."

As he stares at him further with daggers in his eyes Obi-Wan glances away realising Grievous is too busy trying to intimidate him to watch the road. He sees his chance and lunges over to grab the controls, ignoring Grievous' protests and attempts to push him off. He leans on the controls and forces the bike down the left path just in time, finding himself thrown off Grievous and the handlebars as the bike violently slams against the wall as it turns.

It takes all Grievous' strength to not throw him off the vehicle and leave him to rot here. There's no point turning around now, and he carries on along the road with a bitter look.

Another wide opening leads to an open cave leaning out onto the sinkhole. Obi-Wan's heart skips a beat when he sees ships. It's a landing platform.

One that's absolutely swarming with clone troopers. And they're not just on foot this time. Varactyls, heavy weapons, cannons, a whole arsenal.

"Happy now?"

"Maybe I would rather have walked after all," Kenobi scowls.

Suffice to say he's relieved when a blaster bolt goes whizzing past his head to block out the sound of his voice. He's not sure just how literally Grievous would have taken that last statement otherwise.

Without another word Grievous extends his left arm out of the vehicle, and Obi-Wan turns his head to keep a worried eye on the troops in pursuit. The crunch and clanging of metal and duranium fills his ears, followed by the familiar sound of a lightsaber's blade springing to life. When he looks back at Grievous he squints as the dim cave is suddenly bathed in bright blue light. He watches in some awe as Grievous continues steering with one hand on the control bar and the other whirling the saber round faster and faster, effectively a shield from the majority of the clones' fire - although the occasional shot just scrapes the side of the bike or Grievous' own armour.

Grievous' eyes are fixed firmly to the road, except a quick flicker back to meet Kenobi's gaze. Realising this isn't the time to be staring at his arch-nemesis in reluctant admiration, he looks behind them again in startled panic as the troopers draw nearer with their shrieking mounts.

The wide caves narrow as they approach the vacant path of a hovertrain, forcing the troopers far closer together and leaving some lost in the dust. The fire doesn't stop, and they quickly catch onto the fact the entire right side of the bike is left unprotected.

Rapid shots go flying past Obi-Wan's head as he ducks, leaving singed black marks on Grievous' right shoulder and arm. Looking at the offending troopers in annoyance, he splits his other arm and adds a green glow to the rainbow of colours igniting the tunnel that otherwise would only grow darker and darker. Obi-Wan quickly moves out of the way to prevent Grievous from catching him with the spins of his saber (although he's quite sure he wouldn't see it as any major loss).

Impressive for one without the force, he deflects a shot from one of the advancing troopers to the right, sending it back towards the leading soldier's mount. It cries out and falls to the ground, tripping up the others behind it approaching too fast to stop. A few less to deal with.

The tunnel becomes a blur as the bike is pushed to its very limit, the sound of blaster bolts and whizzing lightsabers and shrieking varactyls and a roaring engine all blasting in Obi-Wan's ears. As the journey goes on the troopers become more wise, aiming their shots not at the two in the bike but at the very vehicle itself, scuffing the edge of the control panel in an extremely close call. Branching tunnels only summon more clones, waiting with blasters at every corner and sending fire in all directions.

The ones behind them were easy compared to the ones coming at them from the front, with a clear advantage to not just hit the vital parts of the vehicle but to hit Obi-Wan himself. Grievous takes a hand from the controls to reach for a blaster tucked onto the side of the bike to begin shooting at the clones in front, and Obi-Wan clutches on for dear life. The bike swerves dramatically as his weight shifts, sending them dangerously near the wall and then--

There's something drawing closer. No amount of clones could make that sound.

Obi-Wan snaps his head around with wide eyes.

There's a train coming.

"Grievous, drive!" he cries, lunging to snatch the blaster from his metal hand.

Looking behind him in alarm Grievous quickly relinquishes the weapon and regains control of the vehicle, swerving out of the way of the train. Obi-Wan grits his teeth at the sound of metal scraping against the stone wall, his whole body being thrown about as the spikes on the wheel snap off and find themselves under the bike. It's all he can do to hold on with one hand and try and shoot with the other, and even the Force can't save his uneasy aim.

He takes down a few varactyls (with great remorse as he thinks of poor old Boga) and gets a few hits on some of the riders, while Grievous does his best to swing at the ones behind. All while the train steadily approaches.

It's as much of an ally as it is a hindrance, clearing out the tunnel and taking a few of the pursuers with it, but there's hardly any room to manoeuvre alongside it as it comes closer. The goal quickly changes from getting to a better destination, to simply staying alive and on the move.

As it passes the other troops begin to catch up, still pouring from all directions; and so distracted by the chaos, Grievous' swings grow messy and desperate. Obi-Wan feels himself tire as the blaster bolts come dangerously close to his face, watching one just miss him and go straight for one of Grievous' left hands, leaving blackened metal and a few exposed wires dangling out. Grievous, seemingly so used to it, pays it no mind. As long as it stays attached.

The train's well past and they're coming up fast on a wider opening where the path splits into several directions. Dead ahead there's a solid wall, the other paths blocked by troopers on their mounts and speeder bikes with weapons at the ready. He glances from path to path, clone to clone, and finally at Grievous, blinking the sweat rolling down his forehead out of his eye.

There's no way through this. Even a bike this size couldn't get through this amount of troopers, and even together they couldn't take on troopers with these kind of weapons.

He's frozen in panic, wanting to shout to Grievous, but there's nothing to say. This is the end. Surely, this is the end.

Grievous doesn't flinch, doesn't hesitate, not even as the blaster bolts screech past his fast and leave blackened marks across him and tear up his cape.

The bike screeches to a halt, the tired engine turning off at last, and despite all the hell and commotion it almost feels silent.

Silence. Yes, soon there will be silence. Obi-Wan will be dead.

From the corner of his eye Grievous' hand presses on the controls.

Noise. Light. Screams and cries, tumbling rocks, the ground below him shaking and nearly throwing him to the floor. No, not the ground. The bike. The engine sparks to life again with a roar, the three remaining legs extending to climb over the rubble with a violent wobble that throws him to the ground.

Before he even understands what's happening, he tumbles to his knees, blaster flying from his hands and he reaches toward the rubble. Through the cloud of dust he sees white armour drawing nearer, bright blue creatures struggling to climb through the debris. He closes his eyes, forgetting everything else around him but the light. He reaches out with strained hands, not thinking, not seeing, not hearing anything else. And the rocks before him lift.

When he opens his eyes, there's a wall between him and the clone troopers.

His shoulders sink down and he leans forward to support himself as he sucks in heavy breaths, desperate for air. He's still sweating all over, trying his best not to just collapse to the ground. He hears voices through the wall, the sounds of blasters making contact with the rubble. But with the explosion taking out their heavy weapons the blasters aren't enough to penetrate the rock.

They’re safe.

For now.

Grievous used the bike's cannon to destroy the wall. Grievous!

There's smoke pouring through from the tunnel, and the smell of the hot engine of the bike.

He gets to his feet quickly, stumbling down the tunnel, reaching a hand out to lean on the wall lest he fall over. A figure emerges from the smoke, slowly walking towards him and wheezing intensely.

He'd never once thought he'd be as glad to see General Grievous as he is now.

His cape, now a tattered mess of holes and burnt edges flutters behind him, barely covering his damaged shoulders and arms. His four arms are now joined back into two, with the blackened half of a left hand looking close to falling off. Even his face plate is a little scorched and cracked around one eye.

"You're alive," Grievous says.

Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's meant to infer that particular tone as surprise or disappointment.

For what it's worth, he's glad Grievous is alive.

"Somehow, yes," he replies, his heavy breaths nearly matching those of the general, who quickly becomes caught up in some particularly painful sounding coughs.

"I blocked the tunnel, we're safe for now," he continues, leaning against the wall in exhaustion. "How's the bike?"

"The fuel tank has ruptured. It's too heavily damaged to be repaired. But there is a city up ahead."

Grievous is about to start walking, but the brush of Kenobi's fingers against his arm holds him back.

"No, wait," he pants. "Let's just rest here for a moment."

Grievous' eyes tell him he's frowning, but he stops anyway and finds his own place to lean back and try and catch his breath. Another coughing fit quickly ensues.

"I think we both deserve a break. Listen to me," Kenobi smiles, "I almost sound like you."

"Very funny," he groans, still wheezing just as badly.

"Not that I'm trying to patronise you-"

"For once," Grievous adds.

"But are you sure you'll be alright? I've never heard you _quite_ this bad."

Grievous looks at him in a kind of horror. Making fun of him is one thing (one very familiar, and very grating thing, he might add) but asking about his well-being is very much another.

Obi-Wan senses his discomfort.

"I'm just asking," he says, hands raised defensively. "You're the reason I'm still alive you know. It's the least I could do."

Nothing about this situation could have been foreseen by even the greatest of Jedi Masters.

"Thank you," he says, seriously.

Grievous studies him with something new in his eyes. Obi-Wan sees it for just a second.

And then his face hardens.

"I was keeping myself alive," he huffs. "Don't forget that _you're_ the one that led us down that path."

He points a finger at him coldly and Obi-Wan shrugs him off, too tired to get into another fight with him. He admits his navigational advice perhaps wasn't the best. And Grievous' attitude could have been just a _smidge_ more helpful.

But he's not annoyed. Of course he isn't annoyed, that they could have hidden in the vast reaches of a city, close to a spaceport, with plenty of politically neutral Utai to convince for help, instead of… here?

He shakes his head, longing for some rest to make him feel less irritable, and peers uneasily down the tunnel from where a soft light streams next to all the smoke.

He stands up from the wall, softly sneaking along to get a glimpse of what lies ahead as Grievous watches on from between coughs.

Coming down here might have been a good idea after all.


	4. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June was a very busy month but we're back! In this chapter I do the most personally predictable, in-character thing I've ever done - introduce a protocol droid and name it after my favourite console. Whoops.
> 
> Also I just want to say thank you so much for all the feedback on the last few chapters, I've been having some trouble writing lately and your comments have really motivated me to keep going. I couldn't have asked for a better response to the first fic I've ever posted <3

Grievous trudges forward, a torn up cape following him like a shadow. Obi-Wan stands motionless aside from the steady movement of his head, tracing the expanse that lies before them.

It's a city.

Completely underground; a solid roof of stone above them with a hundred glowing lights bright enough make it feel like daylight. Structures of bone and rock as far as the eye can see, and a bustling population of the stubby little Utai.

As he looks to Grievous at last he notices decoration around the mouth of the tunnel, sharp pieces of bone and wood, the markers of some grand entrance now gone dim and washed out.

"It's amazing," he says.

Grievous' lidded eyes suggest he feels otherwise. He shakes his head and marches forward with one hand behind his back holding the shredded remains of his cape back.

Obi-Wan frowns and catches up with him briskly, trying to stop him but Grievous is too impatient for him.

"Wait," he begins, his voice hushed. "You can't just march through the middle of this place."

"And why not?" Grievous asks, turning around and putting his face so close to Obi-Wan's it's uncomfortable.

"Well, you're-" he stammers, "You know."

Grievous dismisses him with a wave of his hand and won't let him hold him up any longer.

"I'm a tyrant," he says, sternly. "These people know their place."

Obi-Wan's face changes and he follows along, his voice still low and careful. He glances at a nearby Utai that gives them both a quick glance and wanders round a corner like he's trying not to make it look deliberate.

"You mean they know you? I thought this planet was neutral."

Grievous watches the small aliens and Obi-Wan notices the way he glares at them until they retreat into their homes. There's a sudden foul taste in his mouth.

"I have had business with their kind in the past," he replies, blunt and vague enough to tell Obi-Wan there's something here he doesn't want him to know about.

"Dare I ask what kind?"

Grievous shoots him a gold glance.

"None that you would approve of."

They turn a corner onto a main street and inside Obi-Wan there's a feeling of dread that only grows as he watches the Utai cower and turn away.

"That's why they blocked that tunnel," he continues. "To keep my army out."

"Is there anyone on this planet you haven't antagonised?" he asks, his nervousness manifesting. "I thought we were going to be safe here."

He crosses his arms and tries to walk faster. The sooner they're out of here, the better.

"We will be," he growls.

It's times like this Obi-Wan really wishes he didn't lose his cloak in the calamity of escaping the clones. Some kind of anonymity would be nice, especially when parading down the street next to the nightmarish cyborg that's been terrorising a bunch of hapless little miners for who knows how long.

He takes some time to admire the layout of the underground city, still marvelling at the existence of something this far down and yet so well populated. In the distance he sees different types of structures, more industrial and modern than the ancient buildings, possibly housing power generators for the artificial lights above them. The architecture itself is so different from the kind in Pau City and even on the nearby levels, still grand and remarkable in structure but so much more primitive. There's intricate designs on some of the supports and walls of the houses, letters carved or painted on in dark brown ink. The symbols aren't even recognisable to him.

Nearby echo the cries of varactyls, and as they turn a corner one hurries past with an Utai on its back.

"I don't suppose you could tell me exactly where we are?" he asks at last, unhappy with being kept in the dark.

Suddenly there's a new voice instead of Grievous', one feminine and metallic and accented not too different from his own.

"This is Atinu City, one of the oldest and most thriving of the ancient Utai cities," comes the voice, and as he turns around he sees it belongs to a protocol droid standing outside a building behind him.

The droid is red and rusted, covered in dust and grime, but with glowing yellow eyes as bright as the factory standard.

Grievous clenches his fists and Obi-Wan stops to converse, curious to ask it more. Somehow he's certain a droid is going to be less secretive than Grievous is.

"Let's get moving," he urges, but Obi-Wan shrugs him off.

"No, wait, I have some questions about this place," he continues, to the droid's immediate delight.

"I will be happy to answer any questions! In fact, I, TC-64, am a-"

Grievous grabs the thing by the arm and drags it along behind with Obi-Wan in tow.

Let the Jedi have his fun with it. As much as he hates droids, he _is_ going to need an interpreter after all.

The droid's busy telling Kenobi every excruciating detail of the history and forms of architecture of the place, and when Grievous glances over the look on his face tells him with Jedi is already regretting all of this. If he could hear over her incessant talking he'd notice the way the cyborg almost seems to laugh through his nose. Wherever that is.

He steers them forward, blocking out all the thorough explanations of irrelevant members of the Utai civilisation that the droid decides are important, all the different ways Obi-Wan can find to tell it to leave without being impolite, and all the sounds of the little creatures around them in confused panic. He's been here enough times to know where he's going. Enough times not to be distracted by the grand structures and technological marvels that Kenobi's busy being lectured on.

The Jedi is doing his best to block her out and not let his guard down, still on edge from the previous run in with the clones, but enjoying the slow pace of this town despite everything. It's nice to feel safe, for a little while. As safe as a person can be with General Grievous by their side.

"You still haven't told me what you've been doing here," Kenobi says, pulling himself away from the droid (who stops talking at last) and leaning towards Grievous in a nervous whisper. "Or how you plan to get us out of here."

"Isn't patience the Jedi way?" he scoffs.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

"This is a mining town," he begins, gesturing with one hand, the other still behind his back. "Goods are regularly transferred from here to the surface. _That's_ how I plan to get myself out of here."

"So kind of you to think about _my_ wellbeing," the Jedi says, bowing his head in a mock curtsy. "You're not getting rid of me until we're both in hyperspace."

Grievous shrugs him off and continues leading them through the main marketplace, and into an area of industry. Obi-Wan watches as carts full of dusty rocks and glittering gems are slowly heaved past them by the busy Utai. As the path turns into a downhill slope, one cart comes loose from its owner's small hands, tumbling towards another one being hauled from one side of the road to another. Obi-Wan exhales just loud enough for Grievous to hear and with a hopefully-subtle motion of his arm slows its pace through the Force and watches as it comes to an unnatural stop right before it can collide with the other cart. The two Utai stop and gaze at it, their alien faces still able to convey a sense of deep bewilderment.

Obi-Wan turns his head to find Grievous staring at him in a sort of callous bemusement. As predictable as Grievous is, it seems perhaps that relationship goes both ways. It almost gets a sheepish smile out of Obi-Wan.

He supposes neither of them is particularly good at blending in. Ordinary certainly isn't really a word that'd describe either one of them.

The smell of molten metal grows stronger as they approach the heart of the city, and Obi-Wan looks up to watch the steam and smoke pouring from the buildings gathered up by large extractor fans. For an underground city of people considered primitive to the rest of the galaxy, they seem to have a lot figured out. Grievous leads him and the droid down one final turn, taking them to a stop near the entrance to a mine with some small buildings situated outside it.

It's only when he stops walking that Obi-Wan realises how much his feet hurt.

He also realises how little this resembles any form of train station.

"Well," he says, tiredness and impatience getting the better of him. "Where are we now?"

Grievous bangs a fist on the rock wall of the building instead of the door; metallic clangs echo into the cave entrance to their left.

"I have some unfinished business here. And he can get us on that train."

At that moment the door swings open, and a trembling Utai stands before them, nearly jumping when the dark figure of Grievous fills his home with shadow, his large black eyes growing wide.

He makes quick eye contact with Obi-Wan, who does his best to look apologetic, and suddenly feels very guilty about being in Grievous' company. Grievous meanwhile reaches for the droid and drags her round beside him.

"Tell him I'm here about my investment."

"Certainly," she says, before turning to the alien and transmitting the general's request in perfect Utai.

Upon being asked what he means, Grievous growls and points a finger at the cowering man.

"Don't waste my time. I want my investment in your mines back. You can keep the kyber crystals."

Obi-Wan frowns as he realises exactly what Grievous' 'business' with the Utai was. The same trouble with kyber crystals that nearly killed them all the last time they were on this wretched planet. Grievous turns to him with a dirty look as he waits for the droid to translate.

"Our deal?" he asks, following the droid's response. "The deal is off. If you have any problems with that I will be happy to hear them."

He moves his arm to make sure the poor creature has a good view of his lightsabers, tucked into the messy remains of his cape.

Obi-Wan can see the way the Utai shakes before he's even heard the translation, looking grimly to the floor.

"He assures you there is no problem," the droid replies. "He is happy to give you your credits, if you wait a moment."

Grievous nods his head and stands aside to let him anxiously squeeze out his door and past him as he heads for the base of operations inside the cave. He stumbles a little on his way and looks back with terror before turning a corner and disappearing into the cave.

"I see he's an old friend of yours," Obi-Wan says quietly, his voice dry and sour.

"An unfortunate creature," Grievous replies. "But he has his uses."

That callous remark leaves a bad taste in Obi-Wan's mouth but he says nothing.

A moment later some other Utai peer their heads round the edge of the cave entrance, soft chattering echoing. Obi-Wan gets the feeling it isn't just Grievous they're worried about. He shifts his feet awkwardly.

"I should have known this had something to do with kyber crystals," he says, needing to say something to calm his nerves.

Grievous grunts.

"This city was the main source," he explains. "The Utai don't expect much in return for their work. And they don't ask questions."

"I wonder why."

Silence draws in while they wait. As much silence as there has been for a while anyway, with the bustling of carts and creatures in the main street a short distance behind them, the servos of TC-64 creaking and whirring. And from the mines, the clanging of picks against rock and metal, and some skittering footsteps as the miners peek out to take fleeting glances at the strangers outside.

"He's taking too long," Obi-Wan says, softly. "How much money did you put into this place?"

Grievous growls, his expression changing to one of disgust as he keeps his eyes fixated on the cave.

"I put nothing into this. I ferried Sidious' credits and kept the miners quiet."

He sounds bitter as he says it. It's not exactly classified knowledge that Grievous is, in many ways, little more than an enforcer for the separatists, a threatening presence designed to fight wars in the physical realm more so in that of the strategic. As much of a weapon as the four he carries.

What _is_ unusual is hearing him nearly admit it. It's always been a sore topic, and a good one to catch him off guard with. Clearly he's taking his abandonment by Sidious _very_ well.

Obi-Wan's almost in the right mind to press the topic further, but dares not get him volatile now. But then he surprises him.

"Sidious is constructing a weapon."

Obi-Wan turns to him immediately, eyes wide and thoughts racing as suddenly suspicions are confirmed and thousands of questions are raised in his head. But as he opens his mouth to speak, the Utai appears at last, a heavy bag of credits weighing him down as he waddles towards them.

He presents the bag to the general, who snatches it from him and surveys its contents carefully.

"He asks if there is anything else you require, General Grievous," relays the droid.

"Yes," Grievous replies, coldly. "Tell him I require transport to the surface immediately."

Obi-Wan steps forward, about to make sure Grievous doesn't find some way to conveniently leave him out, but a metal hand holds him back, narrow slits of eyes piercing him.

"He can arrange for the departure of a cargo train today but it will take some time to make the necessary preparations," TC explains.

"Fine," Grievous says, after growling deliberation. "And tell him to load up my credits. He can keep the kyber."

He pushes the bag back into the creature's tiny hands, who nearly topples from the sudden weight.

After hearing the translation, he doesn't retreat to the cave as expected, but stays and turns to Obi-Wan, much to his displeasure.

"He wants to know why you are here, Jedi. It is not often the Utai see Jedi this far down on Utapau, but they are aware of your many feats across the galaxy."

Grievous shoots him a grim look while Obi-Wan forces a sheepish smile and tries to figure out how he's going to approach this.

"Oh no, really, I- Just tell him I'm not here for anything important. I got stuck here without a ship, that's all."

"He seems to recall seeing your face on the HoloNet - the Utai here have little interest in the war but still take note of your exploits," the droid elaborates, and Obi-Wan's face becomes more and more pained despite his best efforts to stay polite. "He thinks perhaps you are Mace Windu, or was it Plo Koon- no, he is absolutely certain that _you_ are Obi-Wan Kenobi."

If he wasn't so committed to being a decent human being he'd be hiding his head in his hands. Instead, he smiles broadly and tells him that yes, he is indeed Obi-Wan Kenobi. He watches Grievous roll his eyes and somehow he gets the feeling he's just a little bit tired of his esteemed Jedi companion stealing all the spotlight with his righteous heroics.

And he's modest through it all, as the Utai, who feels comfortable enough with Obi-Wan here to provide his name as Au'ruta, talks through his latest escapades and victories over the separatists. He takes every compliment with grace and charms him with ease, as if the terrifying cyborg that threatened his life mere moments ago is no longer there, glowering at the two of them and tapping his foot. Realising of course that the longer he's distracted with his hero worship, the longer he has to wait to get out of this wretched city.

Obi-Wan can hear the low growl emanating from him when the droid relays that Au'ruta wishes to invite him inside and offer him something to eat, but equally hears the growling of his own stomach and crouches down to fit inside the low doorway with the droid in tow. Grievous lingers outside the door, realising at this point it's best to just leave the fools to it because at least he can hold them both accountable if he's here to watch. He supposes it would be a shame for Kenobi to drop dead of starvation before he gets a chance to finish him off personally. And besides, he's not done with him yet.

Obi-Wan is nervously aware of Grievous' piercing eyes, trying his hardest to hurry Au'ruta along but unable to stop his endless barrage of questions about everything from his lightsaber to whatever battle he last saw on the HoloNet to the Jedi of the Old Republic. Apparently the Utai take more interest in the Jedi than the Pau'an rulers would let on.

Obi-Wan gives him a brief summary of the day's events thus far because it seems nothing else will satisfy him, with Grievous leaning in to silently moderate the discussion and ensure nothing unfavourable could be said about himself. For a while his head disappears from the door frame, but the noise of clanking metal outside, passing from his left ear to his right repeatedly, tells him he's still lurking around trying to find an output for his restlessness.

The Jedi's mind wanders as the droid translates more of Au'ruta's endless series of compliments and questions as he contemplates Grievous' powerlessness here; essentially chained to Obi-Wan for his own survival and thus leaving him immune to his wrath. It's definitely taking a toll on the general's patience, that's for sure. It's only until Au'ruta mentions it that he remembers how odd it is to have found an ally in him. He still wonders how long it'll last.

Au'ruta seems satisfied at last, excusing himself with another string of praise for the illustrious Jedi as he returns to the cave to make preparations with the workers. His body language grows nervous as he approaches Grievous again, but soon he's gone again and Obi-Wan creeps out of the small hut to face Grievous' scorn.

"He was certainly… enthusiastic," he comments, grimacing as he realises once again just how sore his feet are.

He feels good to have eaten, despite how tasteless the strange Utapaun fruit was, and is particularly thankful a chance to sit down. He thinks for a second on how exactly the remainder of Grievous' body is maintained, but decides it's probably best to avoid prying.

"At least he seems like a good man. Do you trust him?"

Grievous exhales and looks unimpressed while Obi-Wan calmly relaxes against a wall.

"Trust doesn't come into it. He's lucky you're with me, and that I am gracious enough to let him take his time. If you weren't here to hold me to account, that train would be leaving right now, whether his workers are ready or not."

"I'm honoured you're willing to take my feelings into account, Grievous," he says, dryly. "You know you _can_ just say you need me on your side."

Grievous just huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Well," Obi-Wan continues, sounding more upbeat, "I think he seems trustworthy. Besides, leaving immediately would put us in too much danger; the delay gives the troopers time to spread out or lose interest. I think it will prove quite advantageous-"

He's cut off suddenly. By a low voice emanating from Grievous' masked face. His narrow eyes glint golden under the artificial light streaming down from the ceiling through the billowing smoke.

"Do you trust me?"

Obi-Wan blinks, looking up to meet the cyborg's unfaltering gaze. He studies him carefully as he tries to figure out a response.

"What kind of a question is that?" he asks, slightly amused. "I don't really have much choice, do I?"

He gets the feeling that wasn't the kind of answer Grievous was looking for.

"But I do. You haven't killed me yet, have you? Though you've probably thought about it," he muses. "It's not something I've ever anticipated, but I trust you. For the time being, at least. Maybe we can keep it that way until we get out of here?"

Obi-Wan can't tell if he only imagines what he sees in Grievous' eyes for a split second, before they go hard and cold again.

"We shall see, Kenobi," he spits at last. "And then you and I will be enemies again."

So Grievous admits they aren't enemies _right now_. Obi-Wan knows he'll never get Grievous to admit he trusts him; outright, genuinely, or otherwise. But he at least implied it. That's progress. Progress… on what? It quickly dawns on him what he saw in Grievous' eyes, what he felt in him as he reached out with the Force for that split second and felt something different. Beyond the dark aura and the cruel, calculating eyes he felt a shimmer of something almost human (in a manner of speaking). Was it pity? Empathy? He doubts that. But there's something there. A new side of him he never thought to look for before.

Something he's been unknowingly trying to appeal to. A bad habit, he supposes.

"You don't have to remain my enemy, you know," he begins, with a calm voice, a little brash, but underneath truly earnest in his offer. "If the Separatists have indeed abandoned you, I'm not above offering an alternative."

He already knows Grievous' answer, but knows he's going to try anyway.

"Do not mock me, Kenobi," he snarls, scowling with his eyes. "There is no circumstance that will ever make me accessory to your vile Republic, do you understand? Especially if it means working alongside you Jedi."

He spits every word, fire suddenly in his voice and behind his eyes. Obi-Wan knows he shouldn't push further, but curiosity gets the better of him, so desperate to truly _understand_ the general, to understand _why_ he's had to see so many he knew fall to him, so many familiar lightsabers cruelly added to his collection.

"And why is that, general? What have the Jedi done to deserve your wrath?"

Hatred flickers in Grievous' eyes, the familiar hatred Obi-Wan knows from countless battles, lit up in greens and blues while the only thing there is to hold onto is your lightsaber and the Force itself. The hatred that tells you that one wrong move will end it all.

But something about that hatred is different this time, less pure in its strength and less lethal in its bite. It's tainted by something greater, something almost tortured.

It's something he only recognises for a moment, something that departs with the clenching of a metal fist.

Maybe he's pretending it's his own neck.

"This isn't an interrogation, Kenobi," he barks at last. "I owe you nothing, regardless of our agreement. The Jedi make it their business to pry into affairs that do not concern them, and you are a wretched reminder of it."

It's a remark that reveals more than he intended. A bitter expression tells Kenobi that he's hoping he won't figure it out, but knows that he will anyway. The Jedi backs down regardless.

"I'm just trying to… understand you," he says at last, his voice softer and more gentle.

Grievous scoffs.

"What is there to understand, Kenobi? Perhaps you are misunderstanding the nature of our partnership."

Obi-Wan makes a frustrated noise that says he didn't expect a comment like that.

"You asked if I trust you. I'm simply asking you the same."


	5. Two Steps Forward, A Few More Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think things have been going a little too well so far, haven't they?

The Utai returns after a short while, cutting short the suffocating silence between the general and the Jedi after a comment that struck a few too many nerves.

The droid hobbles forward on dirty metal feet, rusted brown from a life that would make Senator Amidala's droid overheat from the very thought.

Grievous looks distant as she translates the rapid Utai speech. Obi-Wan's company seems to have calmed the man, although he's trying his best to hide his nervous glances at Grievous.

"He says there will be a short delay before the train will depart for the surface," she begins. Grievous' fist clenches. "It will take one standard hour to load the cargo and make the necessary preparations in such a short time."

She can barely finish before Grievous is slamming a fist on the front wall of Au'ruta's little house, leaving the poor creature shrieking while Obi-Wan winces at the clattering of whatever it was that just fell down in there. At least the wall's still standing.

"An hour?" he barks with death in his eyes.

"He assures you it is the best he can do," TC-64 hurriedly translates. It's impressive she can even catch the words while he stutters and tremors. "Your passage comes at a very unfortunate time."

"So we've noticed," Obi-Wan murmurs to no one in particular.

He returns an awkward shrug when the general glares at him. Thankfully the droid takes no notice.

"Tell him that will do fine," he says to her, ignoring the general's growl. "We appreciate his generosity."

"We?" Grievous asks while the other two converse. "I don't recall there every being a 'we', Kenobi."

"Well, there is now," he frowns, crossing his arms.

Grievous hardly has a chance to protest before the droid's crisp voice calls for their attention again.

"He raises a question I have been wondering myself, Master Jedi."

Obi-Wan senses _just a hint_ of frustration that everyone keeps deferring to the Jedi and not the general. Just a hint.

"He is surprised to see you two together," she explains. "You are quite an interesting pair."

That's one way of putting it.

The general is practically steaming in his own rage, about to make an objection to this entire conversation happening at all, but Obi-Wan steps in with a look too smug to be incidental.

"Sworn enemies, as a matter of fact."

The droid hesitates before providing a rather shaky interpretation to Au'ruta, who just looks at them in puzzlement before speaking again.

As Teecee translates, she speaks slowly, her tone shifting to something uncertain. "He says war can do strange things to a person. Even this far from the top levels you can see the effect of the war," Teecee continues. "He is reminded that there is talk the Pau'an governor is on her way here. He is unsure what it is about; she usually only visits for official events, political occasions and the like."

Obi-Wan's eyes dart to Grievous who returns the look in almost perfect sync.

"Is it suspicious?" Obi-Wan asks, lowering his voice.

"He cannot say for sure, although I am sure it is mere coincidence that she will be arriving around the same time you plan to depart."

Grievous' fist tightens and they share another uneasy look.

"I shall happily guide you to the station," she continues, unfazed by their worries. "It is on the other side of the city, and it is difficult to traverse without someone to show you the-"

"That won't be necessary," Grievous spits.

Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head, stepping in between him and the droid.

"It would be much appreciated," he says firmly, shooting another glare to the general. "Please tell Au'ruta we are grateful for his help."

Obi-Wan frowns and shakes his head again watching Grievous already take his leave, restless from standing still too long and incapable of putting up with another minute of the Jedi and his pleasantries. Teecee relays a reply from Au'ruta wishing Obi-Wan luck on his journey and conveniently omitting Grievous from his parting words completely.

Finally hearing the end of Au'ruta's plentiful advice and gratitude simply for existing apparently, Obi-Wan jogs ahead to catch up with Grievous, while the droid hobbles slowly behind.

He's still tired, and still uncertain about what terrible thing awaits them around the next corner, but Obi-Wan's in a considerably good mood now. Perhaps the most agreeable mood he's been in all day. It was reassuring to meet a kindly face after all he's been through, and all of a sudden it feels like escape from this awful planet might finally be within his grasp.

It was a nice respite from being on the run from a whole battalion of clone troopers, anyway.

"You know what?" he begins, "I take back my doubts about you, Grievous. Taking us here was a great help, even if the journey wasn't _quite_ as pleasant as I'd have liked."

He feels like he's finally regained some strength, a certain liveliness to his walk now that almost makes him forget that not too long ago he was falling to a watery landing and not long after nearly lost his hand in a lightsaber duel. Grievous on the other hand seemingly never moves from his hunched over slump as he stomps down the paved streets, drawing attention from the locals with every clanging step.

"You should have more faith in me, Kenobi," he huffs. "Your arrogance blinds you."

"No, really," he smiles. "I admit it. You have impressed me today. Sworn enemies or not, I appreciate your help."

Grievous doesn't reply. He just stares.

Obi-Wan never noticed before how much Grievous stares.

He supposes it's practically the only thing he _can_ do, the only part of his face that reveals anything about him. He's used to the dirty looks through a hologram, the narrowed eyes filled with hate and glinting in the dark as a lightsaber's blade springs to life and his face is bathed in blue and green. But here, on Utapau, the way he looks at him is different. His eyes are sometimes wide, sometimes hesitating, sometimes uncertain.

Yesterday he would have told you Grievous' eyes were deadly. Cold and cruel and empty.

Now he's not so sure.

He's not sure what he knows about Grievous anymore, the soulless killer that claimed so many of his friends but spared his life and never once took a chance to quietly run a lightsaber through his chest while his back was turned. The heartless monster that went quiet when he thanked him and asked him if he trusted him. The sworn enemy that complained and threatened him but was still here by his side.

Eyes fixed forward, walking without another cruel word.

He always thought Grievous was loud. Hurling words on a battlefield in fits of rage, spitting them at his foes and laughing cruelly, the voice piercing your body and leaving you with the taste of rusted metal in your mouth. His every step, each individual movement, it was all noise, feet banging on metal floors of starships, hilts of lightsabers clacking against each other in his cape and by his side, the crackling of their blades against your own.

But here Grievous could be quiet. Silent and judging, scanning with his eyes that could dart around and watch Obi-Wan in ways they hadn't before. At first he thought the silence was just a means of maintaining control, suppressing all his rage and instincts that told him to take a saber to the Jedi's neck, or just another way to keep him afraid. But it's different, it has to be different; when he remembers the look in his eyes as he watched him fix the bike, all the times he caught him watching him and something in his eyes changed, it has to be more than that.

There's more in him than rage.

But as he keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings, taking in the endless streets that sprawl before him, he realises he still doesn't know what.

The droid, finally managing to catch up, is doing her best to guide them in the right direction while Grievous does her best to ignore her. Obi-Wan's just surprised they don't lose her as they weave in and out of paths cluttered with Utai and their heavy carts, rustic houses billowing as much steam and smoke as they do unusual smells, not to mention the frantic crowd gathered both to marvel and to cower at the intruder and the Jedi.

"So what do you know about this governor?" Obi-Wan asks, his voice hushed and covered by the noise of the bustle. "Someone we should avoid?"

"The Pau'ans don't appreciate my presence," Grievous replies, waiting until TC-64 finds herself caught up in a crowd. "They're neutral in this conflict, but can be convinced to pick a side."

Obi-Wan strokes his beard, frowning and watching as some more passers-by turn and stare at him, jabbering in words he'll never understand.

" _Are_ they neutral though?" Obi-Wan mutters.

Grievous turns to him sharply.

"What are you implying?"

He shakes his head, creasing his brow and letting out a heavy breath.

"Something isn't right here. The place is neutral, the Utai don't care about politics, they don't ask questions. So why did Au'ruta know me? The droid told me they aren't interested, and then he lists off names of Jedi, battles, things he's learned from the HoloNet. It doesn't add up."

Grievous nods and keeps a watchful eye on the droid.

"This place wasn't like this before the war," Obi-Wan continues, shaking his head. "All it does is divide."

"The Utai know more than the Pau'an leadership wants them knowing," Grievous notes. "Keeping them blind is the best way to maintain control."

"But it doesn't always work."

Obi-Wan's eyes shift to Grievous, still fixated on the droid. She directs them to follow her round a corner and he beckons her to lead on.

"You don't trust the droid," Obi-Wan says quietly.

"It knows too much."

"It's a _droid_ ," Obi-Wan scoffs. "One of those stuffy protocol droids that isn't getting enough memory wipes down here, that's all."

Grievous growls and gives Obi-Wan a look that's supposed to intimidate him but Obi-Wan won't let it work this time.

The walk in silence a while longer, Obi-Wan trying to calm his mind but it's hard when Grievous is practically fuming next to him, his heavy breaths more grating on his ears than ever. A large building starts to come into view, its architecture different from the rest, grand and shining and more in line with the great bone structures up on the higher levels than what he's seen down here.

"Droid," Grievous says, speaking again for the first time in minutes and beckoning her with a gesture

She hobbles over eagerly, arms stiff at her sides in the awkward little walk common to all protocol droids.

"How much farther?" he asks, dryly.

"It's right up ahead, just around this corner here and then we follow the main street."

The droid is barely finished speaking when Grievous quietly winds a hand into his cape. In the time it takes for Obi-Wan to shout his name, Grievous slices the droid in two and Obi-Wan's voice is muffled under the noise. He feels the eyes of a hundred Utai on them, as the whole street stops and stares in silence.

"Grievous!" he cries again, his voice strained in pure irritation. And then he lowers his voice, gritting his teeth as he glances around at their audience. "What did you do that for?"

"I told you why," he hisses, putting away his saber.

Obi-Wan exhales in sheer exasperation. "And I told you it's just a droid! Are you always this paranoid?"

"You're too eager to leave witnesses, Kenobi," he spits.

"Witnesses?" Obi-Wan asks, raising his voice enough that the entire street is fixed upon the two of them now if they weren't already. "I'm sorry, are you criticising me for not killing everyone I talk to?"

"That droid has heard every one of our conversations. It knows exactly what we're doing here, where we're planning to go, and isn't afraid to run its mouth."

"And what exactly was it going to do - tell the whole galaxy?"

Grievous growls and Obi-Wan watches as his whole body shakes and seethes. And then suddenly he's standing too close to comfort, towering over him with narrow eyes that turn deadly again.

"Trust no one," he says at last, and then turns with a quick motion. "Now keep moving."

But Obi-Wan doesn't move.

He looks down at what's left of the droid, a crumpled heap on the floor, exposed wires sparking and crackling. Grievous steps over it with no remorse.

He knows it's just a droid. But it's still a reminder of who Grievous is, despite everything else. And of how it would have been just as easy for him if it had been a living, breathing person instead. His blue eyes falter and his fist tightens.

"I thought you wanted _my_ trust," he says, coldly.

The Utai have all turned away now and returned to their business. None are brave enough to look when Grievous stops dead and snaps his head around to glare at the Jedi.

When Grievous doesn't reply, Obi-Wan presses further.

"Who's to say that couldn't have been me? Earlier, you asked me what there was to understand about you. I want to understand _why_ violence is always the answer. Violence against those who can't fight back." He can't disguise the bitter scorn in his voice. "Even Dooku wouldn't behave so senselessly."

" _Don't_ compare me to him," Grievous barks. "We are nothing alike. I am a warrior."

"You are?" Obi-Wan asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or you _used_ to be? What warrior lowers himself to become a pawn in someone else's game?"

"I am no one's pawn," he snarls, fists clenched and lingering closer to his cape and the lightsabers tucked inside. "I had nothing to do with the politics of the Sith, my business with them was for my own gain."

Obi-Wan nearly laughs through his nose; surely he knows he's lying to himself? He knows he shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be adding fuel to the fire and guaranteeing himself a swift death but he's at his limit of how much he can take anymore. To be reminded of how many of his friends have died to Grievous' hand, to see just how many delusions he lives under, and to realise how little his trust in Grievous means to him.

"Some great warrior," he says. "making yourself a slave to someone else's will and trying to convince yourself otherwise. A great warrior cares about honour, not mindless slaughter!"

And then he sees the fire burning in Grievous' eyes, a look more deadly than any other and a few more heads turn in the street when he slices an arm through the air with a body that shakes with a rage he can barely contain.

"I was a great warrior."

Obi-Wan freezes as he towers over him, feeling smaller now than he did before. Lips part at a loss of what to say now.

He feels the beating of his own heart as clarity comes back and his own anger dissipates in the face of something more. Not just in him, but in Grievous. The thing he sensed before. The thing that lay beyond the rage. Grievous' breaths are heavy and laboured as he meets the Jedi's hesitant gaze.

"I was a greater warrior than you will ever be."

His voice is cold as he spits the words.

"The Jedi Order is one of no more than hypocrisy - you know nothing of honour!" he roars. The words come fast and frenzied, a tone to his voice Obi-Wan has never heard before. "Do not lecture me about senseless killing when you have not lived it, have not had it wrought upon you the way I have."

And then he goes cold again, the look of death returning to golden eyes that only seek to pierce the Jedi's gaze more and more with each word.

"There is no difference between the Sith and the Jedi. You may try to convince yourselves that there is light and dark, but all I see are greed and arrogance. Both took everything from me. And now I only live to see you suffer."

Obi-Wan's eyes grow wide, desperate to the find the words, to say something, _anything_ , to figure out what the right thing to say even is. But there's nothing he can say.

Grievous scowls with his eyes and turns away, leaving Obi-Wan still and silent in the middle of the crowded street while he storms away past the whispering onlookers.

The story of Grievous exists only in sparse rumours, clouded mysteries discussed in mess halls filled with clone troopers, stories spread by eager padawans in the absence of their masters, dangerous whispers among the common people who feared their homes would be next to fall to the half-droid monster and his armies. The Jedi masters themselves never found out the truth, though when the war began it was all they could come to discuss.

Once a Kaleesh and a fearsome warrior, now mutilated and serving as Dooku's enforcer of terror.

He can't deny it was more than a few times he found himself drawn to the question of what happened in between. Most of the Jedi realised they would likely never know, and besides, what difference would it make? Anakin cared more about finding the quickest way to kill him, and Ahsoka was never going to care about anything beyond keeping up her winning streak against him. Some of the others caught their glimpses of what lay beyond; Kit Fisto told the council all he had seen in the general's lair and the shrines to himself he had built.

How proud Grievous was of his own 'improvements'.

But even to that story he feels there's more.

And now he's not sure he'll ever get to hear it.

His breath catches and he realises Grievous has all but abandoned him, and he runs past the wreckage of the droid and through the bustling crowd to catch up with the cloaked figure that towers above all else.

From this distance he's struck by the realisation that he looks different now.

His hunched figure looks so tired, so pitiful; his body so marked by the blaster fire from only hours earlier and his cape enough to keep his lightsabers in and barely anything more now. His laboured breaths and the occasional cough weigh on him in a strange way now, as Obi-Wan struggles with what he even understands about him anymore and how long it will be before he kills him. And why he hasn't already.

He's still struggling to find what to say to him.

But then Grievous hears his footsteps approaching and turns his head to look at him and Obi-Wan knows.

He knows what he saw in Grievous' eyes earlier, the thing he felt in him but could never name, the thing that pervaded his metal body and cruel voice and left Obi-Wan with this pit in his stomach that he had pushed too far to go back now.

It's pain.

With nothing else left to say he says the only thing he can.

"I'm sorry."


	6. Bonds Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that Hugo Award huh? Turns out those folks are huge Obigrievous fans.  
> A shorter one this time, but I'll hopefully be able to get the next chapter out sooner to make up for it. Think of this as the (relative) calm before the storm.

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his sweat-drenched hair as he follows Grievous around the last few bends in the road on the way to the Utai station.

The general is doing his best to ignore him now and Obi-Wan keeps his distance, choosing to observe their surroundings in hopes of finding some way to calm his mind.

Or maybe he's just trying to find a way to avoid dealing with any more uncomfortable truths today.

The city is labyrinthian, so much so he's at least glad Grievous waited until now to destroy their only guide. The stares of the locals don't bother him so much now, not with so much else clouding his mind and leaving his stomach unsettled. He's grown numb to even his aching feet now and the lingering sting of the mark on his hand left by Grievous' lightsaber earlier in the day.

He gazes at the bone structures surrounding him; every new building he spies more decadent than the last. It's a far cry from the stubby earthen huts of the miners like Au'ruta. Here the mark left by the Pau'ans on the Utai's underground civilisation is inescapable, the creeping in of their own motifs and grand architectural stylings to the humble tradition of their smaller neighbours.

In most cases he would have expected a hostile takeover, back when the Pau'ans found themselves forced into the underground world of the Utai as conditions on the surface worsened. But the Utai had accommodated their upper neighbours and the two people shared a harmonious relationship.

That's how the history lessons described it, anyway. He knows the truth was probably a little more complicated.

He takes another nervous glance at Grievous.

His head pounds with the weight of the thoughts that race through his mind. A cloud of anger and guilt and fear and all the things he's learned to let go of but can't quite let rest this time.

That maybe he was wrong about Grievous. That maybe he wasn't just a monster. And that maybe _he_ was the one living under delusions, to think he could ever get through to him.

He lets out a deep breath and lets distraction find him once more. It seems it's all he can do on this planet.

Grievous meanwhile walks with nothing but pure purpose. The scenery means nothing, the cowers of the natives nothing more than routine as the seas of crowds part for the kind of monster the children would be seeing in their nightmares for years to come. And the human awkwardly trailing behind, pale enough to be a spectre.

As they reach the edge of the city a building unlike any other comes into view, a towering structure of sculpted rock and bone reaching the roof of the cave, orange light spilling out through carved patterns in its walls. It's unmistakably Pau'an in design; its height even dominates the comparatively tiny buildings of the Utai just like its designers.

This is their destination.

The crowds thin down into nothing as they approach, the shoppers and the workers going their own way and leaving the decadent street empty. Its administrative buildings are cold, their insides are hollow and dark. It's true the Pau'ans thrive in darkness, but Obi-Wan wouldn't bet on finding a single one inside.

It's here that Grievous stops. It's uncomfortably lonely here at the end of the road with the bustle of the city gone. Just the Jedi and the general and the building that towers over them. Before he would have longed for silence, but now the quiet unsettles him more than anything else today.

A grand archway faces them; the glow from the warm light inside spreads into the street and stops just short of their feet.

Obi-Wan watches Grievous closely without a word, recognising the way his eyes narrow and the vanes to each side of his head twitch as he scans the entrance.

His stare hardens when he finds what he's looking for.

"The Utai was right," Grievous says, cold and quiet. "The governor is here."

He gestures sternly with a finger as he points her out in the depth of the building and takes a step back to avoid being spotted.

Obi-Wan ducks down and creeps to the side of the building, finding a gap between the sculpted patterns  of the wall to steal a glimpse inside. Following Grievous' gaze he spies the tall elegance of a Pau'an, dressed in the traditional flowing red robes, accented with pure black. From a distance, similar enough to the dress of Administrator Medon when he first arrived on the planet, but exuding an aura of even greater poise. As was custom among the Pau'ans the clothes themselves displayed the wearer's status. All the more reason for him to feel uneasy.

She stands alone, in the wide open hall of the station entrance. Strangely empty for a station in a city this large. He thinks back to the look that flashed across Au'ruta's face when he asked him if the circumstances were suspicious.

But he takes a breath and turns to Grievous. His voice comes soft through his dry throat.

"I'm going to speak with her."

Grievous looks at him and sneers.

"And what good do you expect will come of that?" he asks. There's barely any emotion in his voice anymore.

"Grievous, I-" he struggles to find the words in weary frustration. "I have to."

"You're a fool," he says, turning away. His eyes start scanning for a path around the building.

"There are things I have to know," he pleads.

There's something in his blue eyes that betrays his calm exterior as Grievous' eyes meet his again.

"I have to know what's going on here. With the clones. And the Jedi."

For the first time he puts words to the feeling that's been consuming him all day. That this isn't just some freak accident on a lonely planet in the Outer Rim.

Grievous looks him over without a shred of pity.

"Then you're a _selfish_ fool," he spits.

Obi-Wan sighs and lowers his head.

Maybe the most selfish thing was thinking he could have changed Grievous by now. That things wouldn't have to end like this.

"Maybe it is a trap," he says. "But I have to do it anyway."

He remains motionless while Grievous creeps by the entrance, barely even acknowledging him. He expected Grievous to snap by now, to finally let out all the rage boiling inside him. But it's like there's no anger left in him anymore.

"You're on your own now, Kenobi," he says coldly, looking over his shoulder.

The words hurt, somehow. But he nods.

"I know."

They share one final look.

"Thank you for taking me this far. Good luck, general."

His heart pounds for some reason he's trying not to acknowledge as Grievous just stands there. Silently watching him turn to the entrance. Golden eyes are cold and cruel but the look of death he expects never shows.

And without another word, without even reaching for his lightsabers, Grievous lets him go.

There's no time to dwell on it now, on the monster who'd spent three years swearing to destroy him letting him walk away with his life. All he can do is keep walking forward and face whatever happens next.

As his footsteps echo on the hard floor the Pau'an woman turns to him with surprise in her eyes. Her long arms open in a graceful gesture as he walks closer, a sharp-toothed smile spreading across her gaunt face.

Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.


	7. Nothing Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time we finally get to spend some quality time with Grievous. As always thanks for all the support and for making it this far - this is roughly the halfway point which means there's a loooot more still to come.

Grievous is alone now.

This is how it should be. This is how it always is.

So he thinks to himself as he creeps around the corner and leaves the Jedi to his doom. He left him to go and die a foolish death, all for the sake of his friends. Well, if that's how he wants it, who is he to get in the way?

His golden eyes flicker up to look over the building that towers above. Kenobi would probably comment on the architecture. But Grievous has something else in mind. The patterned sloping walls caught his eyes as soon as they approached the colossal structure, instantly recognising the sculpted shapes as perfect footholds, and higher up where the lights flood out through round openings he could spy a suitable entrance.

All too easy to sneak through unnoticed while Kenobi distracts the governor.

He can't say it was his plan the whole time, but if the Jedi wants to throw away his life he might as well make the most of it. So he starts to climb.

He'll admit he hasn't _loathed_ his time with Kenobi entirely; humiliating as it was he spared his life in exchange for his cooperation. A mutual agreement, nothing more. And he really did need someone to fix that wheel bike. That's not to say he couldn't have sliced up all those troopers by himself, but he prefers to keep the odds of his own survival as high as possible.

There will be other times.

His focus begins to waver. His grip on the ledge tightens, still and silent as he hangs a few feet off the ground with his cape dangling behind.

He was abandoned. Discarded. He knows it's true.

The Jedi and his paranoia about his order. Meanwhile his master left him, _dared_ to leave him like this, his army shut down and his communications unanswered. Sidious left him for dead.

His synthesized breath comes out deep and coarse and he continues to climb.

Clinging to the thoughts of Sidious, of Dooku, realising it is _them_ he loathes more than any Jedi. Holding him back with an army riddled with weaknesses; an army of droids, just another sick joke at his expense. And Dooku and his 'tests', his proud words and his thinly veiled contempt at every failure.

He hated it.

But he's rid of it now. No droids to taunt him with, no Dooku to hurt his pride at every opportunity, no Sidious to stop him from taking what he wants.

Free. Whatever that means.

He remembers freedom, some of it anyway. And he knows this isn't really freedom at all. Just a sign that the war is over, and he is no longer required.

Grievous hasn't lived without war. Even when he really, truly lived, in the genuine sense of the word, war was all he had. It drove him, it fuelled him to keep going, it set the fire in his heart and put the passion in his eyes. And without it he is nothing. Only surrounded by bloodied corpses, sabers in his hands and fear in the air is he Grievous.

Part of the rock wall crumbles under his metal foot and he pauses again, turning his head to watch over the sprawling city beneath him. These people think they know freedom, as they mill around in their streets, taking care of their families and spending their days hard at work. But they still live in a town encased in stone.

The next foothold is too far to reach; if he jumps he'll only damage the wall and risk alerting whoever is inside. So he splits his right arm and ejects a grapple, aiming it to grip one of the metal struts holding the building to the cave roof. Hitting his target, he lets it pull him up to the wide opening, squinting a little in the orange light as it hits his eyes.

Voices echo from inside as Kenobi and the governor revel in their pleasantries and he scowls as he detaches the grappling hook.

"I must say," comes the clipped accent of the Pau'an on the floor down below. "Finding you in a place like this unexpected, master…"

"Kenobi," he says. "I apologise for the intrusion, but I'm afraid I've been having some trouble navigating your planet. I was sent out here on a mission-"

The Pau'an cuts in, her cold, magisterial air leaving a bad taste in Grievous' mouth. Too much like Dooku.

"Yes, I am quite aware of your situation; Administrator Medon has already informed me of your 'trouble'."

Grievous scowls and turns his attention back to his plan of escape. In front of him metal platforms hang suspended from the ceiling; if he had to guess, some old maintenance route for installing and fixing the blinding orbs these people call lights.

He's still as he surveys the path, tuning out the chatter below until he identifies a rumbling nearby, coming from the far end of the building deeper into the cave wall. Peering down he knows no matter how high he is he still needs to be quiet. Separating his arms he ducks down into a crawl, scuttling slowly across the narrow beams with careful steps.

The voices drone below as he sneaks over them, the sharp voice of the Pau'an woman explaining the tedious details of Utapauan government on some pointless tangent. And then Kenobi's voice comes, soft and weary, that pleading politeness that he's grown to despise.

"I was hoping you could help me get back to Coruscant, governor," he says. "All I ask is some safe transport back to Pau City and a loan of a ship - myself and the Jedi Order will repay you most kindly."

There's a pause in the conversation and then the governor's voice echoes again.

"That can be arranged, Master Kenobi. However," she continues. "I must ask of you one thing in return."

"And what would that be?"

Grievous recognises that tone of voice. The one that says he's trying to keep up that calm façade, that there's a grin on his face but something else going through his head.

"Tell us the location of General Grievous."

Grievous freezes in place, his head snapping round to watch them speak.

So this is it.

This is the part where the Jedi does what Jedi do best. Where all of his sentimentality, his riveting moral speeches and flattery and half-hearted apologies prove themselves to be nothing greater than more empty words from the mouth of a hypocrite. The part where he gets shipped back to Pau City in spare parts.

He watches on with cold eyes, ready for the moment of his predicted betrayal.

But then Kenobi speaks.

"I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since I arrived here, he fled before I found the Separatist base."

His eyes grow wide, looking down at the bold-faced liar of a Jedi and trying to understand why. He nearly laughs as he realises he misjudged him - perhaps his foolish self-righteousness would lead to his death after all, just not in the way he thought.

He looks at the path in front of him and knows he should keep going. But something keeps him fixed here to see how things will play out.

The governor clears her throat and whatever air of kindness she was trying to put on melts away in an instant.

"I must inform you, Master Kenobi, that as it stands you are a wanted criminal and as are the rest of your Jedi Order."

The words come so flawlessly, so damningly, like a practiced speech from her robotic voice. Kenobi is silent as he stands motionless beside her. Maybe he's trembling.

"I take it you haven't heard," she continues. "Several members of your order attacked the Chancellor on Coruscant. He's ordered your execution."

Dead Jedi? Grievous would grin if he could. Yet even now he can hardly find joy in the death of Jedi that weren't slain by his own hand. He could leave now, spend the rest of his life relishing the end of the Jedi Order. But still he stays, waiting for Kenobi's wavering voice.

"Tell me more," he says at last. "Please."

Down below him the governor takes a dignified breath. And then with heavy, half-lidded eyes, she begins to recount horror after horror across the galaxy.

The latest from the HoloNet; the temple on Coruscant billowing spoke, audio from the previous night in the Chancellor's office and the treasonous Jedi who wished to see him killed. Tiin. Kolar. Fisto. Windu. Each of them dead. The attack against Kenobi wasn't just an isolated incident, it was part of a full scale effort to eliminate each and every Jedi.

Of which Kenobi might be the only survivor.

She recounts what she had heard from the clone troopers, how Kenobi had already escaped their grasp today. And Grievous watches as it quickly becomes a threat.

As he looks down on the governor something faintly glints in her hand, the one she's holding behind her back. And he pauses, eyes darting from her hand, to Kenobi, to the opening at the other end of the building.

Blocking the pair out, he follows the path along the ceiling, creeping as urgently as he possibly can through a gap in the wall into the grand opening in the cave. The sound behind him fades and muffles under the growing roar of a train's engine, and when he peers down the Utai are still pilling rocks and gems into its carriages.

But the Utai aren't alone. And neither is the governor.

Hidden out of sight behind the wall, standing firm in silent perfect rows, he sees them. The clone troopers are waiting.

Waiting for the signal she just delivered.

He hears murmurs below, helmeted heads nodding and readying their weapons while the cowering Utai finish loading their cargo. And now all Grievous can do is wait for the troopers to move.

He'll be leaving on that train whether Kenobi ends up a corpse or not. The Jedi wanted to help him, and lucky for him his final act would be doing just that. And just because he can hardly help himself, he's going to stay and watch it happen.

He crawls backwards across the metal platform and gradually comes back in earshot of the conversation. He finds it almost a pity to have missed all the gruesome details of the Jedi killings.

Kenobi is silent down there, standing weak and defeated.

But as the governor speaks again in that sly, cold voice, things suddenly get very, very interesting.

"I really would appreciate it if you told me the location of General Grievous."

The Jedi hesitates.

"I'm afraid I really don't know," he replies. "Like I said, I haven't encountered Grievous since landing here."

It's then her voice booms, turning icier still as it echoes through the hollow building.

"You may be a Jedi but you are a terrible liar, Master Kenobi. I have been informed by your troops that you have been seen cooperating with him. I would advise you to be reasonable and tell them where he is, and perhaps all of us can come to some sort of agreement."

Grievous turns his head away, certain that this is where he betrays him, knowing that if the Jedi has even half of a brain and a self-preservation instinct of course this will be it. An impulse tells him to run, to scuttle along the platform and race down the tunnel on foot if he has to, train or no train.

But then Obi-Wan speaks, and when his voice finally comes it's different. Not hesitating, not trembling, but steady. Firm. Threatening.

"I won't do that."

Grievous doesn't blink. He barely breathes. Frozen in time atop the beam, eyes fixated on the absurd Jedi trying to defend his life.

It's ridiculous, it's unbelievable, it's _suicide._

This isn't one of Kenobi's obnoxious moments of witty banter, not another sarcastic joke at his expense. He's barely heard him with more determination in his voice than now as he sacrifices his own life for his sake, as if he has anything to gain.

And they say Jedi aren't supposed to form attachments.

"Are you out of your mind?" the governor howls, echoing his thoughts to the letter. "Are you implying you have allied with a separatist warlord?"

And then suddenly all of Kenobi's cool comes flooding back, and even from this height Grievous can see that familiar glint in his eyes.

"Well, times certainly have changed, haven't they?"

The governor nearly growls at that, baring her sharp teeth and doing all she can to stop herself from lunging forward in pure anguish.

"What can you possibly hope to gain by defending him?"

Kenobi strokes his beard and it's enough to signal to Grievous that an arrogant little smirk is spreading across his face.

"If you're going to kill me anyway, why should I give you that pleasure? Grievous has probably left the city by now and is ready to leave in one of your ships."

"This will be a decision you _won't_ live to regret."

Without another threat or snarl the governor snaps her long fingers and calls: "Troops!"

And below Grievous the floodgates open.

They spill out from the cave a group at a time, the first forming a half-circle around the Jedi while the governor backs away safely towards the entrance. For a moment there's silence, a pause as the soldiers almost seem to offer Kenobi a surrender.

But Grievous knows Obi-Wan. Knows him very well, in fact.

And he knows no such word exists in the man's vocabulary.

There's no fear in his body as they ready their weapons, as the men he knows by name turn at him with nothing but murder in their minds. There's no fear as blue light floods the room, the lightsaber's blade springing to life as it finds his hand as quickly as Grievous blinks.

And without another second's delay, the fight begins.

For some Jedi perhaps this would be it. They would put up a gallant effort as they weaved and dodged and reflected back the blinding blue beams, but one false move would see them fall just as quickly as the battle began. But Obi-Wan is prepared. Obi-Wan knows how to defend himself. And Obi-Wan is too stubborn to die now.

Grievous watches as the bolts of light whizz back towards their source, the Jedi toeing an invisible tightrope and swinging his blade with grace and timing like it's nothing more than a practised performance. There's no struggle, not even as the next wave of troops move in to support the thinning numbers at the front, and Obi-Wan only has to duck and sway and dance with the saber to deal with their blasts.

Grievous knows the saber well. He knows its colour in a darkened room, the way it crackles against his own, the way it cuts through a hand and points to his throat. He's learned to loathe it, the tool with which he bests him time after time, but he realises no; it's more than a tool, more than a blade, more than the wielder. It's everything around him. It's the Force itself.

Just another thing beyond his grasp. Another weakness to taunt him with. Yet as he lies still enough to be part of the architecture he can't find within himself this anger that would so consume him each time they fought. As he catches a glimpse of Kenobi's unshakable blue eyes, wild and focused and determined all at once as he fights an impossible battle he finds something new consuming him. The thing that keeps him glued here, the nagging voice in his head that won't let him leave even if this is his only chance to escape with his life.

Grievous knows fools. Fools like the one below him throwing away his life without a second thought for the sake of one who would kill him given the chance. But Grievous also knows warriors. Warriors with fire behind their eyes and passion in their hearts. Warriors with something to fight for, to _really_ fight for, with that unbreakable spirit, that unrelenting sense of duty, of honour. That readiness to throw it all away for something that matters.

Grievous remembers those days.

Maybe Obi-Wan isn't a warrior, not like the ones Grievous used to know. But by the stars does he try.

Then suddenly Grievous realises. Obi-Wan isn't just fighting the for the Jedi anymore, not even fighting for himself. He's fighting for Grievous.

As blue light bathes white armour and swirling Jedi robes Grievous' eyes dart to the cavern beyond. To the train. To his escape. And then back to Obi-Wan as still more clones flood the room.

And Grievous hesitates.


	8. Something To Fight For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait after leaving you on such a cliffhanger! And thank you so much for over 100 kudos and 1000 hits, it all means so much to me <3 And now for a very fun chapter.

Obi-Wan blinks the sweat out of his eyes. Blue and clear and focused while his surroundings turn to nothing but pure chaos.

Around him nothing but noise and light and the cold feeling of death.

But inside him nothing but the blinding bright Force.

It guides his body as he twists and leaps around the pelting blaster fire, guides his legs to step around the fallen bodies of his former allies, guides his hands to tear through the air around him with his saber and cling to it with the same desperation he clings to his own life.

And so he ducks out of blaster fire to watch the blue bolts of light hit the soldier behind him instead, swinging broadly to deflect several more and keep himself covered as he backs away to safer ground. As two troopers approach with heavy weapons he lets out a laboured breath and reaches out a hand to pull the blasters from their grasp and directly into his blade. It's all he can do to try and thin their numbers before he loses focus, and before they grow too great in number to overwhelm him for good.

He's used to facing numbers like this. But the mass produced machines from Grievous' army, though threatening in their numbers, never caused him this kind of difficulty. It isn't just the amount of them that makes his mind race, not just the training and the skill that makes his heart pound.

They're his men. Men he fought alongside for three years, men he knows by name.

But as the soldiers he knew as friends fire again and again, like soulless, silent husks beneath the armour, he wonders how different they are from Grievous' army after all.

His vision blurs and his steps falter as the governor's words echo in his head about the attacks on the Jedi. That maybe he is the only one left and this is how the war truly ends. But as he looks to the Force he feels something new. Something he hadn't expected.

His wide eyes focus under determined brows, his grip on the saber tightening as nothing but pure life fills him and carves its way through the death that circles him.

Obi-Wan is not afraid. Not afraid of death or failure or any of the things that could hold him back. He forgets about the clones, forgets about the Jedi, and lets go of all he has. Everything but the Force and his own obstinate hope.

He fights with new energy, leaping to the air and taking the clones by surprise when he lands with a spin that slices through a few sets of armour, before sprinting along the nearest row of troopers to do the same. As more close in he hardly takes a second to flinch before pushing them aside with his free hand, before turning to reflect fire from a rotary blaster cannon back towards another handful of soldiers and finally its wielder.

He knows he'll tire soon like this. But something tells him things are about to get interesting.

The final wave spills into the cave, the clone sergeant in his orange striped armour marching in with another few dozen soldiers by his side. Obi-Wan holds up his saber to defend himself as they begin firing. But suddenly there's a pause.

Between them something floats gently from the ceiling. Something large and black that flutters to the floor and nearly engulfs an unaware clone beneath it. He struggles beneath it; others stop shooting in surprise and some attempt to assist, while helmeted heads tilt to the ceiling in confusion in fear of what else lurks in the cave.

But Obi-Wan knows. And he only smiles as a new ferocity fills him.

It's only a moment later as another pair of clones fall to the floor that the rest of the battalion meets another surprise.

A surprise, of course, for the troopers, and not for the Jedi.

A loud thud echoes around him. The harsh sound of metal hitting and scraping the floor, the crunching of dense metal and machinery, and four familiar crackles as a green and blue glow bathes the cave.

Obi-Wan doesn't need to turn his head to know. But he does anyway, so he can smile at the intrusion that meets him with fierce yellow eyes.

At the sworn enemy jumping to his rescue.

Obi-Wan gives Grievous a cocky nod that would have earned him a groan in any other situation. But here he feels like even Grievous would be smiling, if he could. And his eyes, they glow with a new fire, the same wild determination filling Obi-Wan's body and his mind.

Shots fly wildly as the troopers panic at the added threat of Grievous. Those closest to him find themselves swept away by his sabers and others flying with a kick of his leg. The seas of troopers part as he clears a path through the swarm. He barely even blinks as he fights his way through them to reach the cornered Jedi, grabbing a trooper with his foot and slamming him into the one aiming a shot directly at the back of Kenobi's head.

"Nice of you to drop in," Obi-Wan cries above the noise with the smuggest grin to date. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming to my rescue."

Through the blurs of sabers and blaster fire he can still see the suspicious look on Grievous' face. A look he would have read as sheepishness if he didn't know him better.

"How did you-?" he asks without meaning to, his emotions getting the better of him.

"You know you can't hide from the Force," Obi-Wan smiles. "Though I commend you for trying."

Grievous nearly spins around and starts chopping _him_ up, but he simply turns his head to shoot the smirking idiot the coldest glare he can manage.

"You talk too much," is all he says.

But Obi-Wan's satisfied with that, smiling through his exhaustion and shrugging his shoulders in response.

And he focuses himself again, taking another deep breath and adjusting his grip on his lightsaber as Grievous stands beside him and splits his arms to reach for another pair of sabers. He finds just enough time to ask himself if after all these years of fighting he ever thought he'd stand beside him as an ally.

Turning away from each other and back to their shared enemy the Jedi and the cyborg stand back against back, sabers drawn and waiting for the stunned clones to start their final attack, Grievous ready to fight to protect Kenobi the same way the Jedi would for him.

An unlikely team. But a team nonetheless. And admittedly, quite a good one.

As the troopers approach Obi-Wan deflects blaster fire with graceful slashes and practiced precision while Grievous lays into them with vicious swings and ruthless kicks and slams to any that dare get too close. Soft Jedi robes sway against cold duranium plating as Obi-Wan backs towards Grievous with his saber shielding them as best it can, the Force guiding his mind and keeping him alert while Grievous overwhelms with unbridled power.

Their sways and slashes come in sync, a rhythm perfectly matched each time Grievous steps forward to cut another man down and Obi-Wan follows his lead to return a blaster bolt to its sender. And in turn Grievous watches Obi-Wan to know when to duck and to dodge, relying on the Jedi's instinct as much as he protects him with his own power.

Soon most of the remainder of their attackers lie at their feet in crumpled heaps, but it's then the pair freeze, turning to each other in an instant.

The whistle of the train sounds through the cave wall. In that split second pause a blaster bolt whizzes past Grievous' face and severs the loose wiring in one of his left hands. By the time Obi-Wan turns to watch the hand and the lightsaber clutched in it tumble to the ground, Grievous is already running, swinging at anything in his way. Barely thinking, Obi-Wan motions with the Force and reaches out to grab the fallen hand and saber, tucking the hand in his belt next to his weapon and clutching Grievous' in place of his own. In an instant he's racing after Grievous' trail. To the train that's leaving without them.

"Move, Kenobi," Grievous calls out behind him. "Unless you want to stay here."

Obi-Wan nods with a sharp breath, blocking out the few remaining clones and praying the Force can hold up his aching legs one more time. In front of him Grievous scampers through the cave opening and towards the platform on all six limbs, disappearing out of view when he squints the dust out of his eyes in the face of the warm air blasting as the train picks up speed.

The sight of the metal hover train nearly makes his heart sink, but he's calmed by the reminder that this isn't a bustling station on Coruscant where the trains bolt out of view no sooner than the doors have closed. Perhaps the slow technology of the Utai has at least one benefit.

He's never been one for high speed travel anyway.

The wind ruffles his hair as he runs, eyes watering while Grievous bounds ahead with no sign of slowing down. He wipes the dampness from his brow while his legs lament the agony of just how much time a man can spend running at breakneck pace from one thing to the other. Because as slow as the train may be, it's still moving faster than Obi-Wan can run.

With a faint whirring behind him the last remaining troopers appear, a few dozen clones pursuing hopelessly on speeder bikes with little consequence to either of them.

Obi-Wan's eyes widen in realisation, right as a blaster bolt grazes his shoulder. Ignoring the burning pain he skids to a halt and freezes, watching Grievous disappear into the dark of the tunnel. He turns slowly with a deep breath, the thrumming engines of the bikes growing louder and louder in his ears.

His eyes snap open and in a second he leaps into the air, landing swiftly on the back of the nearest speeder and knocking the driver to the ground. He hops into the driver's seat and pushes hard on the accelerator, wondering what Anakin would think of him now. As his pursuers send another couple of stray blaster bolts in his direction he ignites Grievous' green saber and swings it behind him to deflect, taking out one of the drivers while the rest scorch the rock walls. A few moments later Grievous is in his sights, trailing behind the rapidly advancing train while the other troopers and their bikes are left in the dust.

"Grievous!" he cries, as loud as he can knowing there's enough noise to drown him out completely.

But Grievous hears the speeder, and Obi-Wan doesn't even need to slow down for Grievous to leap on behind him with perfect timing, clinging on with three hands. The bike rocks violently with the added weight but doesn't falter as they approach the train.

Through another miracle, the hulking metal train slows as the tunnel begins to twist and turn, and with a nod to Obi-Wan, Grievous knows this is their chance. Obi-Wan looks with sharp eyes for a door, an opening, anything that could let them inside. Spying his target, he steers the speeder along the train's side to a sliding metal door.

Without another word Grievous leaps from the bike, leaving it wobbling hard enough to nearly throw the Jedi off. Grievous scuttles urgently up the train's side, finally resting to cling to part of the door. Obi-Wan quickly turns his head back and forth between Grievous and the path ahead as Grievous struggles with the door.

His voice is unsteady as he cries Grievous' name, panic flashing in his eyes as the tunnel narrows and threatens to plunge them into total darkness.

But then a screeching sound fills his right ear, followed by Grievous' voice, muffled and shaky beneath the sound of the roaring engines and the wind whistling in his ears.

"Jump!" he cries, and then again in case he hadn't heard.

He reaches out a right hand while the other supports the door, and Obi-Wan looks at it with wide eyes before meeting his yellow gaze. He gives a strained nod and takes a deep breath, not taking his eyes from Grievous as he throws himself at the vehicle the best he can, still clinging to Grievous' saber with his other hand. He grimaces as his knees hit the metal with a bang and gasps as he feels himself about to fall, before Grievous' hand grabs his own in a tight grip.

Grievous pulls, and Obi-Wan thinks back to how many times he found himself thrown across a room or struck with the same hand. Obi-Wan knows Grievous' strength; but he's never known it in a place such as this, never found himself so effortlessly supported by it.

In front of him the speeder whizzes forward without them and crashes into the wall with an explosion so bright and so loud he squints his eyes and nearly slips from Grievous' grasp.

With a great heave Grievous pulls him up and desperately throws him in through the open door. Obi-Wan rolls and tumbles in, crashing against crates and sacks of rocks and minerals and all the other unpleasant kinds of cargo the Utai just _had_ to be hauling in the same carriage he would make a rough landing in. He lies panting and aching, watching through bleary eyes at Grievous. He's silhouetted by the dim light outside as he stands at the door, leaping in and straining to pull the rusted door closed behind them. And then with one final push, he seals it shut and everything goes dark.

It's finally over.

They're safe. And they're together.


End file.
